A Game of Wizard's Chess
by CalliopeGalaxy
Summary: Hermione has been born into a family, built on blood purity and Dark Arts. Will she succumb to her birthright or forge her own path? AU
1. Preface

_Preface_

**Author's Notes:** I decided to come up with a long term fanfiction project. And this is what I've come up with. It's a slight alternate universe (AU) with original characters as well as the canons. I have a plot laid out and everything, with possible ideas for a fanfiction series. Character profiles and Played Bys (PBs) have been designated as well. I do this with a lot of the stories – novels or fanfictions – that I write. I really felt that I wanted to focus on this story and put this out on . Below I've done an explanation of the pre-story background and then a summary.

**Author's Notes II:** Before I get into all that background and summary information, I would like to say that this story is based _loosely_ off of the HBO television show Game of Thrones. It is not based off the book series that the show is adapted from (but it does hold some similarities). If you are familiar with GoT, you'll see some similar themes and storylines. But this is **not** a crossover and it isn't necessary for you to have seen Game of Thrones. Any who, as a child I grew up on strategy games such as Risk and Chess; so there may be some references to those games. In the future, I'll be setting up a free site where you can see character profiles, PBs, and other things. I'm planning on writing this story to be roughly 50 to 150 chapters. If you're a reader that does not like stories with a lot of chapters and long chapters this might not be for you.

**Pre-story Background:** This story takes place after the Battle of Hogwarts with the Death Eaters victorious; it jumps in immediately. Supporters of Potter, the ones who have survived, have gone underground. Lord Voldemort has taken over the school systems and the Ministries of Europe. And he and his followers are slowly taking over the Muggle world. However, I have mentioned before that this is an AU.

So these are the changes. Hermione Granger is not a Granger or a muggle-born, instead she is a Pureblood and her name is Aquila Lestrange. Before I continue further I'd like to mention how I really detest when people rename Hermione's first name. I've made it so that her middle name is Hermione and that she prefers to be called by that name. Now on the fact that her last name is Lestrange – her parents are Bellatrix and Rodolphus. I've seen a well written story where she is the child of Bella and Roddy and I was equally excited that the author kept Hermione's name the same. Hermione was also raised by the Malfoy family, along with her older siblings.

One thing that does remain the same is her friendship with Harry and her being sorted into Gryffindor. Despite the fact that she comes from an ultra-dark family, Hermione is still brave, resourceful, and a know-it-all. Sirius Black (one of her relatives in this story) was also sorted into Gryffindor and did not want to have anything to do with the Dark Arts. Hermione attempts to do this as well.

**Summary:** It's July 31st 1998 and the war ended two months prior. The Dark has won. The Dark Lord has an army of Death Eaters at his disposal. He rewards those who have done well for him during the war. Within the Dark Lord's inner circle, many changes have occured. Arcturus Lestrange, the son of Bellatrix and Rodolphus, has joined the inner circle – seeking approval from his father and the Dark Lord. He has been labeled the Inquisitor of the Dark Army and spends his time weeding out traitors and the like. Yet he wishes to expand the Death Eaters' horizons. He ultimately wants the Dark Lord to take control of the world.

The Lestrange's eldest daughter, Adhara, has been married off to Antonin Dolohov, a faithful Death Eater to Lord Voldemort. Pregnant with Antonin's child and a skilled potions mistress, Adhara strives to create the darkest creature possible. She wishes to mother a basilisk. But instead of using a chicken egg and a toad, Adhara wants to create the strongest of its kind using different ingredients.

The youngest child of the Lestrange's, Hermione, takes on an inner battle as she does not want to be a part of the Dark Ways. But she quickly learns that the dark is very seductive. As her cousin, Draco Malfoy, and she embark on a journey of self-discovery, a romance blossoms between the two.

**Author's Note III:** Before I leave this here for the remainder of the story and continue posting chapters, I feel like I have to mention something about Hermione's sister. My unofficial middle name is Adhara. However, the Adhara in this story is **not** based off of me in any way. Many readers will know the pronunciation of many of the names such as Hermione, Arcturus, Rodolphus, Lucius, etc. But I will give the pronunciation of Adhara: "ah-DAY-rah." The story is rated M. It will also be updated every Wednesday and Friday.


	2. The Wedding

The Wedding of Monsieur Dolohov and Mademoiselle Lestrange

**Malfoy Manor  
><strong>**Friday 31 July 1998**

Adhara adjusted the tiara atop her head once more. She gazed into the mirror for what seemed like an eternity. She looked as if she was dressed for a funeral. Her wedding gown was black with an empire waist. It was strapless and showed enough flesh of her bosom to be entitled tasteful. The soft layered skirts were made out of silk and tulle. They reached the floor like dark clouds. The beaded waist shimmered in the lights of the room and created an intricate design around the bodice. Adhara glanced at herself in the mirror again. Her heavy-lidded eyes were smudged in black kohl; her lips coloured red.

"You look beautiful," a voice said from the doorway.

Instead of looking into the mirror, Adhara turned to face her aunt who leaned against the doorway. Narcissa looked startled. She was a scared doe amidst all of this. Her hands were shaking and she was biting her lower lip, similar to how Hermione did when she was nervous or stressed. Adhara gulped and looked away shyly. Narcissa moved closer very fast and clasped the palms of her hands around Adhara's cheeks.

"Listen, sweetheart, I know this isn't how it should be. But you must do this," Narcissa nearly broke down crying.

Adhara gulped yet again and gave a quick nod. "I just… what if after a while, he doesn't want me? What if I'm not worthy enough to be his wife?"

Narcissa looked relatively shocked at this statement. Her niece's words shattered within her. She remembered uttering those same words to her mother about Lucius, when it had come time to marry. Her mother had eloquently mentioned that she would be seen and not heard and to deal with it. But as time went on, Lucius had become a caring husband. Even though is judgment was flawed and down-right awful. She just hoped that Antonin Dolohov would treat her niece as nicely as possible.

Adhara had been spending a reasonable amount of time around her husband-to-be. Although her father and uncles were close to him, she knew nearly nothing about him. However, Adhara grew to …like Antonin. More than what she thought she would. He was highly intelligent, a Pureblood and could provide for her. Wasn't that what she wanted? What she should want? Adhara licked her lips anxiously.

"What I mean is …after the wedding, Antonin and I will have to…" she trailed off.

Narcissa's eyes widened even more. "Oh Adhara," she then threw her arms around her niece and held her tightly. Adhara was nearing her twenty-fifth birthday but the prospect of losing her virginity was nerve-wracking. Narcissa wished Bellatrix would talk to Adhara – offer some words of comfort. Yet she knew her sister wouldn't. "You'll do fine. It will be fine." With that, Narcissa smoothed some of the wrinkles in Adhara's dress. "When you sing for him, enchant him Adhara."

With that last bit of advice, Narcissa turned and led Adhara out of the small room. They went through the long corridors of the Malfoy Manor at a faster pace than what Adhara was use to walking. Perhaps Aunt Narcissa was as anxious as she was. Narcissa took her to the dining hall of the Malfoy Manor. When she entered her breath got caught in her throat. She momentarily forgot how to breathe. It was surprising how the hall looked so different from its usual appearance.

The usual stone ceiling was enchanted to twinkle the stars of the heavens. The sky was dark and smelled of fresh air. A soft sound came from a piano in the corner. Adhara turned to look at the instrument, thinking that her brother Arcturus would be sitting there but alas the glossy, black piano was enchanted. Adhara turned her head back to the sight in front of her. Narcissa had walked off, while Adhara had adjusted to the room. She could now see her aunt sitting at the long table in front of her. Her uncle stood behind Narcissa, pushing in the chair and then sitting in the chair next to hers.

In fact there were two long tables – one facing towards her and the other on the left side of the room. They created an L-shape, Adhara had noticed. Dark blue candles floated a few centimetres off the tables. Plates, goblets and silverware were positioned on the tables. Some of the Death Eaters that had come for the ceremony mingled at the tables, near the fireplace across the room, or even in the spaces between. Like in front of her for instance. She noticed Travers talking to Amycus Carrow a few steps away from her. They both turned and nodded towards her before continuing with their conversation. Yet she still felt the crawling sensation on her skin, as she realized they had quite possibly gazed at her breasts.

At the table ahead of her sat her husband-to-be. Antonin Dolohov looked tired; his face was stubbly, his cheeks gaunt, but his eyes were lit up and very aware of what was going on. He clearly did not want to be here and she didn't blame him. He had voiced to her that he would have rather had a quiet, small ceremony. Instead the Dark Lord wished that their marriage be well-known throughout the Death Eater ranks. It was obvious that the Dark Lord wanted all his Death Eaters to understand that good things came to those who listened. Dolohov had the most kills during the last battle of the war. And for that, the Dark Lord had betrothed Bellatrix Lestrange's eldest daughter to Antonin Dolohov. The betrothal was created months before the end of the war – to insure that the Dark Lord got an heir out of Antonin Dolohov's and Adhara Lestrange's union. She didn't know which one was happier: the Dark Lord or her mother.

Her eyes made contact with his gaze; Antonin had momentarily looked away from his conversation with her father. His lips curved up at the sight of her, his dark blue eyes dragging down her form. Adhara smiled back, tentatively. He then turned back to look at her father. Antonin laughed at something Rodolphus said. Adhara's gaze left his and she looked at the table and those who were already seated. On the other side of Narcissa sat Hermione, Adhara's baby sister. But baby she was far from. She was eighteen and intelligent – although to their mother, she was the embarrassment.

She had failed to betray Harry Potter. Although Hermione was sorted into Gryffindor and had made friends with Harry Potter and his crew while their parents were in Azkaban, it was known that she had to betray Harry and deliver him to the Dark Lord. She had rebelled, deeming it an atrocity. Uncle Lucius had kept her under house arrest after that; pulling her completely out of school during her fifth year. Narcissa and Adhara had ended up homeschooling her.

And then Bellatrix was back. She was furious. She was even more irritated that her youngest child would not follow through with the orders that had been given to her. Bellatrix then pushed for Narcissa to send her son to kill Dumbledore. The Dark Lord and Lucius were delighted by this. In the end, they had sent Hermione and Draco back to school to dismantle everything from the inside. It worked – too well. The war broke out and the Wizarding world was in an upheaval. But on May 2nd of 1998, the Order had failed. Supposedly the Dumbledore and Potter supporters still were alive, but their numbers were less than one hundred. Potter had been captured and was currently held in the confinements of the Riddle Manor. No one but the Dark Lord was allowed in there.

Bellatrix ended up forgiving Hermione for her "momentary fit of madness" as she called it. But there was still a strain in their mother-daughter relationship that Adhara had to mediate. One was Hermione's retaliation about being called by her first name. She wouldn't answer to it. So, since a little girl, Hermione was known as Hermione.

Adhara sighed and gave her sister a little smile. Hermione wore a long white gown that she clearly wasn't supposed to be wearing. Everyone else was dressed in royal purple, forest green, and black. She wore the exact opposite. Adhara had to admit, it was a beautiful dress – something she wished she had worn to her wedding. Weren't brides supposed to wear white? Apparently not for ones who studied the Dark Arts. Yet Hermione looked beautiful. The gown was of Grecian form with white and gold sequins around the waist and shoulder strap.

Adhara walked slowly to the table to sit, but not before planting a soft kiss on the curly crown of Hermione's head. She then continued over to take her seat next to Antonin. The witch felt his left hand move over to clasp itself on Adhara's right thigh. He squeezed.

"Are you well?" Antonin asked, as he turned towards her.

Adhara met his gaze and moved in closer to talk to him. "As well as I can be."

He nodded knowingly. "He should be here soon. Do you want to stay for the festives?"

She knew what he meant. The Dark Lord would soon start the ceremony. She would be married off and the festival of bloody darkness would occur. Adhara shuddered at how nonchalant the Dark Lord could be about this.

She took her left hand and pulled herself closer to him. "I would like to leave," she whispered in his ear.

Antonin pulled back and nodded. He rubbed her thigh once and then returned to his conversation with Rodolphus and Rabastan.

Adhara could still feel the palm of his hand on her skirts and for some odd reason it soothed her. Perhaps she was getting accustomed to this relationship. Adhara turned her attention to the door of the dining room. More people filtered in to talk with their fellow Death Eaters or to take seats. She saw her mother amble in and nearly skip to take a seat in between her father and uncle Rabastan. She tossed a smile down Adhara's way.

Adhara loved her mother. The woman's crazy dark hair; her brown eyes; and twistedly, deranged smile. All those years in Azkaban had taken their toll on Bellatrix, but Adhara still appreciated her mother. She only wished Bellatrix felt the same. From a young age, Bellatrix had taught her that she had two choices: become a Death Eater or become a pawn. Apparently her mother had chosen for her. Adhara only hoped that her sister had a way out of this trauma. Hermione had only been two when their parents went to Azkaban, so she didn't really know them. But Adhara, who was eight at the time, and Arcturus, who had been ten, knew their parents very well. They knew exactly what they were capable of.

Another person walked in, almost drunken-like, but Adhara knew that walk anywhere. Antonin's younger brother, Pierre, seemed so much like Bellatrix: touched in the head. However he differed in almost every aspect. Pierre was silly. It was a shock, compared to the fact that his older brother was very serious. Yet Pierre was a brightness that Adhara welcomed openly.

She waved over at him and he rushed forward.

"Adhara!" He whispered loudly. Nearly everyone looked their way. Apparently he wasn't as quiet as he thought.

She gave him a reassuring smile. Pierre quickly fell to his knees on the other side of the table. "Arcturus is bringing the rings as we speak. Draco's with him," he gave a silly grin. He looked towards his brother who was staring daggers at him. However, Pierre did not seem the least bit phased by it. "Antonin, you're getting married!"

"Obviously," Antonin spoke darkly. Adhara placed her hand atop his, before giving him a look. Antonin softened before speaking to his brother again. "Come sit next to Rabastan," he nodded towards Adhara's uncle.

Pierre's face lit up some more. "Yes!" He stood up to move away but then stopped, seeming to have forgotten something. Then he moved back to Adhara and tapped his index finger against the tip of her nose twice.

"Must you be so cruel? He is your brother," Adhara said once Pierre had gone to take his seat.

Antonin chuckled, "If you knew only half the stunts he played when we were boys, you would not be so forgiving."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. Witches and Wizards were taking their seats. At that moment, the Dark Lord walked into the dining hall. His black robes swayed around his naked feet. It was highly unusual. When Adhara and Arcturus attended the resurrection of the Dark Lord they had taken their parents spots. Arcturus thought that they should show their appreciation for the Dark Lord and their parents by being there. Adhara was not allowed to disagree in those moments. His resurrection was frightening – he was merely a naked fetus thrown in to a cauldron. The incantations were spoken and the ingredients added; and with that the snake-like man was formed.

In that fleeting moment, Adhara knew that the Order did not stand a chance against this Dark Wizard. She knew that her family did not stand a chance either.

His naked feet slapped silently against the dark wooden floor. Nagini, a snake who looked strikingly like a python but with venom that could kill, slithered close to him. Most of the Death Eaters looked unnerved by her. Adhara could not understand why. Was there a serious reason to cringe every time Nagini slithered into a meeting? As long as you stayed on the snake's good side all would be well. Adhara gave a tight nod to the snake. Nagini's eyes blinked knowingly at Adhara.

Nagini could understand that Adhara was nervous about what their Master was about to perform – as she should. Nagini could not be bothered by humans and their trivial marriages but if her Master willed it, so it shall be done. There was no doubt in Nagini's intelligent mind that there was a connection between her and the young witch.

Nagini slithered towards the fireplace and coiled around herself, watching the events about to take place. There was a low hiss that emanated from the Dark Lord's mouth. A low hiss was then repeated by Nagini but with different inflictions.

Adhara's brows furrowed. She had never heard the Dark Lord speak to Nagini. But she understood a few words; this shocked her.

"… get this … with," the Dark Lord said to the snake.

Adhara strained to hear what Nagini was saying, but it was said too fast. She felt a chill run down her spine. She didn't believe she could hear them talk.

Then the Dark Lord faced them all. "My loyal followers," he paused, looking at everyone. "It has been nearly a week since our last meeting." He chuckled briefly, "However this is not like any ordinary meeting we've had. Today, we are here to celebrate the union of Antonin and Adhara."

The Dark Lord gave a long pause to allow people to clap and whoop loudly. For Purebloods, they sure could be rowdy. Alas, the Dark Wizard clapped his hands for silence. He continued, "Antonin, Adhara, if you'd please," he gestured for the two of them to come up to the centre of the room. Quietly the two shuffled to leave the table and walked in front of the Dark Lord with purposeful strides.

Adhara felt everyone's gaze at the centre of the room and she grew morbidly frightened for an instance. One look at Nagini and she calmed. The snake nodded to her. Adhara fixed her gaze on the Dark Lord.

"The Marriage Vow, as you all know, is very sacred magic," the Dark Lord said. "It's similar to the Unbreakable and nearly impossible to banish. Your hands?" He gestured at Adhara's and Antonin's hands.

Antonin reached out with his left hand to grab Adhara's. His hand was warm and large in her dainty hand. The Dark Lord plucked his wand from within his robes. With his wand pointed at where their hands were connected he recited, "Antonin Dolohov, you are to marry Adhara Lestrange." A silvery coil of rope encircled their touching hands. It was hot, nearly burning. "Do you promise to protect her?"

"I will," Antonin said, looking at her straight in her eyes.

"Do you promise to wave wands with her?"

"I will."

"Do you promise to _eat death _with her?" The Dark Lord's slithering voice echoed in her ears.

This question startled everyone in the room. No marriage had ever mentioned that promise.

Yet this did not stop Antonin, "I will."

"And you, Adhara Lestrange, you are to marry Antonin Dolohov." Again the silvery coil burned her hand and wrist. "Do you promise to be loyal to him?"

"I will," Adhara looked at him sincerely.

"Do you promise to wave wands with him?"

"I will."

"Do you promise to _eat death_ with him?"

This question made her look at the Dark Lord again. She wasn't a Death Eater. Of course, she did support the Dark Arts and his quest for immortality, but she didn't hold the Mark. Adhara locked eyes with her mother across the room. Her brown eyes were wide and she looked like she was salivating with anticipation. Adhara then looked at her soon-to-be-husband. His blue eyes blinked expectantly. His middle finger rubbed slow, soothing circles against her skin. She saw Nagini stare at her.

"I will."

Antonin gave a sigh of relief and pulled his hand back. But their hands were still tied with the silver cord.

"My Lord?" Antonin asked.

Adhara licked her lips, expecting to pull back as well.

"I have one more promise for the both of you," his lips twisted up in a hideous smile. "Do you both bind your children to me; to become Death Eaters; for your first born to take my place when I am ready?"

Adhara's eyes widened in horror; Antonin looked momentarily bemused by the question. Then realization poured over him. Adhara looked at Narcissa, who looked mortified. Lucius had pushed Draco and Hermione on a golden plate to the Dark Lord and they had to do their worst to Hogwarts. Narcissa would never wish that on anyone else; especially not Adhara. Narcissa's eyes grew misty at this prospect; she looked away. Adhara then turned to her husband again and gave him a tight nod.

At the same time they said, "I will."

Adhara swore she could hear Narcissa's dry sob.

The silver cord sunk into their hands and all was done.

"Draco, Arcturus," the Dark Lord called.

Draco came through the doorway of the dining hall. He rushed to the Dark Lord's side and handed him two boxes. Her youngest cousin was dressed in an impeccable black suit of the richest fabrics. "Thank you, Draco. You may take a seat near your father." Draco nodded and walked over to the table.

Arcturus started into the room, pushing a trolley full of objects and wrapped gifts. Yet the Dark Lord ignored this. Instead he opened the boxes and plucked the rings from within them. Two rings with silver wolf heads on them emerged from the Dark Lord's hand. "If I'm not mistaken, Lord Dolohov, the wolf is your sigil?"

"Yes, my Lord," Antonin nodded.

The Dark Lord nodded knowingly and magically slipped the smaller ring on Adhara's left ring finger and the larger one on Antonin's finger.

In a soft, low voice the Dark Lord spoke the next words. "Monsieur Dolohov and Mademosille Lestrange will consummate their marriage tonight," he said silkily.

Adhara flushed and looked towards the tables. Many of the older Death Eaters including her father and mother snickered. Adhara almost wanted to roll her eyes. Yet when her gaze fell upon Narcissa and Hermione, a pang hit her in her chest. The two looked hopelessly sad, as did Draco.

She noticed that she was still holding Antonin's hand but she didn't mind.

"Before I leave, I wanted to present two gifts of mine to your wife, Dolohov. Would that be allowed?"

"Yes, my Lord, we are both gracious," Antonin said.

"Arcturus," the Dark Lord called Adhara's brother forward. "Give Adhara the first one."

Adhara watches as her brother plucked a chest off of the trolley. He handed it to her, his gaze never leaving hers. "Here you are, sister."

She looked at the chest in her hands carefully. "Thank you, my Lord."

"Well, open it," the Dark Lord said in aggravation.

Adhara looked at him and nodded. She moved back over to the table she had been seated at but faced her relatives instead of sitting with them. With her elegant fingers, Adhara flipped the latch and opened the lid of the chest. She gasped. Within the box nestled in velvet lining, was a dark bronze egg. It was large – she would need two hands to hold it. Her left hand gripped her skirts in anticipation. Her right hand glossed over the surface of the egg.

"A dragon's egg," she whispered to herself.

"Ukrainian Ironbelly," the Dark Lord whispered in her ear. She didn't notice that he was standing directly behind her. She could see everyone at the table looking at her warily. "I'll trust that you know what to do with it when the time comes."

Adhara nodded, not quite understanding what he had just told her. She turned around to see the Dark Lord back near Antonin and Arcturus. Her brother was holding out a basket. The Dark Wizard took it and brought it to her. "Open it, I'll hold it."

She nodded, removing the lid and dropping it to the floor.

"Put your hand in," the Dark Lord ordered.

She wasn't in any position to disobey. She stuck her right arm into the deep basket. Something long slithered up her arm.

"A viper. It's the Lestrange sigil, correct?" He asked matter-of-factly. Every Lestrange in the room nodded. "She's a gift from Nagini." The Dark Lord kept talking but she ignored him. The horned-viper clasped itself around Adhara's wrist firmly. Its orange cat-like eyes gazed at her. The snake was pitch black. Adhara gulped.

Lord Voldemort was upon her once more, gazing at her with unnerving red eyes. "I know, Adhara. I know you can speak to them. I know you can understand them," the Dark Lord whispered into her mind. Instead of speaking out loud, she continued with their telepathic conversation.

"I don't understand. I thought it was mainly hereditary." Adhara looked back as the snake slithered up her arm and into her curly hair.

"It can be, but in your case it's not. I would not doubt that soon Aquila will pick up on the rhetoric. Seeing as the both of you are highly intelligent." His gaze went to Hermione, flickering back and forth between her sister and Draco.

"Please don't hurt them," she said with determination. She felt the viper flick its tongue out against her scalp.

The Dark Lord raised his non-existing eyebrows. "You dare speak to me out of turn, witch."

"It's simply a request, my Lord," Adhara said, curtseying low.

The wizard tilted her up to stand at attention. He tilted her head up further to look at him. "You don't fear me?" He questioned, his red eyes squinting.

"Should I?" She paused. "You are my Master, my Lord. You can do whatever you want to me, to us. But without followers, you are nothing." Adhara was breathing slightly heavy once she was finished.

She took a step back, bumping into the table behind her. The viper hissed. The Dark Lord's lips curved upwards.

Adhara's lips moved once more to say something. She froze, realizing that she wasn't having a telepathic conversation with the Dark Lord. Adhara looked at the Death Eaters seated at the other table. She turned around to look at her family and then to her brother and husband across the room. They all had the same expressions on: a blend of confusion, horror, and excitement. She hadn't been speaking English, or French for that matter. She had just had a conversation with the Dark Lord in Parseltongue.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> When talking to Nagini, Voldemort had said, "Let's get this over with."

Please review. I would love feedback.

-Rosie


	3. Plans Unravel

And So the Plans Unravel

**Dolohov Château  
><strong>**Friday 31 July 1998**

Antonin apparated them to his family's château in France after some of the festives had gotten out of hand. After Adhara had spoken to the Dark Lord in Parseltongue, he had left without another word. It wasn't until Pierre said something ridiculous that the attention left her. She had swallowed an agonizing lump that had formed in her throat. From there everyone ate, danced, and to her horror – a drunken Bellatrix and Alecto were nearly toppling over guests with their incessant gyrating.

Adhara dropped the snake's basket on the floor near her feet. Kicking off her high-heeled shoes, she watched as Antonin placed the dragon's egg near a cabinet.

"Are we going to talk about it or are you going to stand there looking confused?" Antonin questioned.

She struggled to come up with a decent answer.

"The Snake's Tongue? Why didn't you mention you spoke it?" Antonin clarified.

The young witch twisted her hands behind her back and bit her lip. "I'm not sure. I didn't know I spoke it."

He chuckled. "How's that?"

"It's not like I keep a snake in my handbag!" She snapped. Her blood ran cold as Antonin's smile dropped. "I'm sorry," she said before looking down at the floor.

Adhara felt as his fingers gripped under her chin to make her look at him. "You're my wife. Just because I'm a Death Eater doesn't mean I'm going to abuse you, witch." He turned away. "It just so happens that you're the niece of one of my closest friends; yet it doesn't mean I'll allow you to speak to me in that tone."

She swallowed. "I understand, Antonin." She paused as she watched him remove his outer robes. "However," she started. Yet she stopped as she found herself distracted. She watched as Antonin began to remove his inner clothing. She felt her mouth run dry and her palms started to tingle. Adhara had kissed Antonin before. They were subtle pecks on the lips, cheeks, and forehead. But it was more or less for Adhara to get accustomed to the prospect of being betrothed, engaged, and married to an older man.

"What are you doing?" She asked quietly.

His hands paused momentarily as he unbuttoned his dark green vest. He looked at her and gave her a small smirk. "Undressing." He went back to the buttons.

Adhara rolled her eyes quickly before looking even more skeptical. He shrugged off the vest and tossed it to the chair in the corner of the room. Antonin walked over to her in two strides and looked her in the face. Adhara shivered, she didn't know what to do exactly. His blue-green eyes bore into her brown ones. She blinked once before slowly reaching up to cup his cheek in her hand. She smoothed her thumb over the whiskers upon his face. His eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into the warmth that radiated from her hand.

The witch raised herself on to the tips of her toes and leaned her forehead against his; her eyes fluttering shut as well. She wanted to sate her curiosity so she pressed her lips against his. That seemed to be the right thing to do. Suddenly the Dark wizard wrapped his arms around her. She felt his hands rush against the back clasps of the bodice. She shuddered; the young witch did not know what this feeling was. Ripping open the bodice, Antonin pushed the beaded fabric down her waist, exposing her breasts. She gasped as his large hands fell upon the mounds. Her head fell back and a gasp escaped past her lips.

"S'il vous plaît," she murmured before raising her head and looking him in the eyes. Only in these moments would she turn to her Father's native tongue.

It didn't take long for him to attack her lips. The stubble on his chin scratched at her face pleasantly as his tongue licked her lips. She opened her mouth a bit to allow his tongue to slip its way into her mouth. Her hands reached for the fabric of the black button down shirt he wore. Biting his lower lip, her fingernails scratched at the shirt he wore. She wanted to beg for his naked flesh against hers. Antonin's hands left her breasts to rip his shirt open. The buttons flew across the floor, some slapping against her skin. He slammed her against him, releasing a groan.

All the while, she shimmied out of her skirts. Once they were removed Adhara jumped upon him, her legs wrapping around his naked waist. With her breasts in front of his face, he buried himself – pressing a kiss on the flesh between the two mounds of flesh. His tongue snaked to flick across a nipple. Her fingers twisted in his curly hair.

"Antonin, s'il vous plaît," she moaned as she rested her cheek against his temple.

Antonin dropped her across the bed before hurriedly unbuckling his black trousers. She rose up, leaning on her elbows to look at him. She rubbed her thighs against each other to quell the burning sensation at the apex of her thighs. She'd never felt this whirlwind of sensation inside of her. Her quim was leaking; her knickers sopping wet. She smirked as he struggled to unbutton his trousers and shove out of them. Antonin stopped moving when he saw her place a slender finger against her clothed cunt. With that action, he kicked off his dragon-hide shoes and nearly scrambled out of his socks. Adhara pushed down her own knickers while he finished disrobing. Leaning up, she grabbed one of his free hands and pulled him closer to her.

"Chante, mon cher," he murmured against her lips. "Chanter pour moi."

She cried out when he sheathed himself inside her. It felt as if there was a panging stitch in her side, except the location was all off. Antonin withdrew but then quickly surged forward again. The same pain occurred again. The older wizard pressed his lips against her forehead as her legs curled around his waist. She wanted to press herself closer to him. She licked her lips, grinding against him. Adhara was desperate to release the pain. It was sweet, sticky pain that was giving way to pleasure. It didn't take long for her to get used to the feeling of being stretched in this way.

"Antonin," she whispered in his ear.

He pressed another kiss to her lips, but was urged on once her small hands pressed against his shoulder blades. Antonin pulled back and snapped his narrow hips forward. Her grip on him tightened. Again he pulled and pushed within her. He settled into a pace that made her throw her head back and gasp his name out loud. His pounding became ruthless as her eyes closed tightly. The headboard slammed against the wall relentlessly – it squeaked and groaned. Adhara called out his name continuously; pushing herself against him, sliding on his cock until she felt as though she would unravel beneath him.

Her walls began to flutter around him. Antonin looked down at her. He pressed a kiss against her throat, his tongue lapped at the pulse that fluttered in time with her cunt.

"Adhara, mon cher," he whispered against her neck. He slammed once more as his hand travelled in between them. Antonin then pushed his middle finger against her bud gently. With a whimper, her walls fluttered around him stronger than before. She exposed her neck to the wizard, as she clenched against him. Her arms and legs wrapped around him. One more thrust and he spent himself within her. He groaned out her name as he pressed himself against her.

Their eyes locked – both bright with euphoria. But her mouth formed words he never through she would say.

"Je t'aime, Antonin," her voice was quiet.

He nodded, not knowing what to say as he pulled out of her. Sitting up, he ran a hand through his curly hair and pulled her up so they were lying on the bed correctly. He wrapped her in fur blankets, before pressing a kiss against her temple and pulling her to him. She curled against him, pressing her face against the hairs on his chest and placing a hand over his heart to feel the steady thump. Their gazes fixed on the wolf sigil painted on the ceiling. They soon fell asleep; the horned viper never looked away from its perch at the foot of the bed.

* * *

><p><strong>Malfoy Manor<br>****Saturday 1 August 1998**

Hermione awoke the next day with a throbbing headache between her eyes. There was a heavy taste of Firewhiskey and Elf-made wine on her tongue; it almost felt slathered in it. To say that Hermione did not have a hangover was blatant lie. Slowly, she rolled out of bed. How much did she drink the night before? And why?

The events of the previous night slammed back into her head at full force. Her sister's marriage. The ceremony was the night before. Her eyes looked at the beautiful white gown she wore that was thrown over her cabinet door. Hermione remembered as the Dark Lord placed Adhara and Dolohov under the ancient Pureblood way of marriage: the Marriage Vow. It was archaic and cruel. Adhara would never be able to divorce Dolohov. And those children Adhara would have to give birth to; their future was already set in stone.

And then the unthinkable happened. Adhara spoke Parseltongue. That gift did not run in her family, so how in Circe's name could Adhara taken to it? She had had a full blown conversation with the Dark Lord and didn't even notice.

Hermione did notice how her sister's face lit up at the two gifts that were bestowed to her. The gifts: a dragon egg and a horned viper were both gifts from the Dark Lord. Supposedly the snake was from Nagini, but that was beside the point. These were unusual gifts, Hermione did notice; but it was not in her place to say what present was acceptable for her sister. After those events Hermione watched with sadness as Adhara picked at her food anxiously. Then they left together. Adhara grabbed the basket containing the snake and left with her husband.

Hermione sat up on the edge of the bed. If only she could turn back time. She knew that her sister would be safe with Dolohov. But how would she be treated? Was Adhara destined to be a quiet housewife in the French château that was owned by Dolohov while he did the Dark Lord's work, or would she become like their mother, a Death Eater? Each outcome seemed equally as bad. It just wasn't like her sister to be like that. She wouldn't roll in front of a man and take it, would she?

It was known that Adhara and Dolohov would have to have a child soon. The Dark Lord willed it. Hermione hoped that her older sister would be okay. Would she even see Adhara again?

Although Hermione loved her cousin Draco, she did not like his friends. The only one she could stand was Theodore, but he and Draco weren't really friends; more like acquaintances. They were forced into the same circle since their fathers were Death Eaters. Blaise Zabini was way too bigoted to be around. Millicent was too clumsy. Daphne Greengrass and her sister were too whiny. The two other boys, Crabbe and Goyle, were too oaf-like. And although Hermione did enjoy Pansy's company, it just wouldn't be the same without Adhara.

Hermione sighed before rubbing her temples and grabbing her silk robe from the stool in front of the vanity.

"Where are you going?" A soft voice asked from the bed. Slightly bemused, Hermione turned to face the bed. Draco had propped himself up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. His pale hair looked soft and silky in the sunshine. He looked over at the clock on the bedside table. "It's past noon."

"Yes and I'm hungry. Care to join me for brunch? Your mother will be wondering why we haven't woken up," Hermione said.

"There was a party last night. She'll understand how we passed out drunk," Draco grumbled and got out of bed. He grabbed a shirt from the foot of the bed and pulled it on. Hermione noticed he still had his briefs on from last night. "How do you think she is?"

Hermione's face crumbled. Poor Adhara, married off to one of their father's friends. Her eyes began to water.

Draco looked startled before rushing over to his side. "Cousin, don't cry," he said as he pulled her into a hug.

As Hermione struggled to recover, she pushed herself closer to Draco. "I just feel like my mother has abandoned us. It's as if she doesn't care whether the Dark Lord kills us or rapes us."

He pulled back from his cousin and gave her a curious look.

"Well, isn't it obvious? He's punishing our family. Every mission we've been given, we haven't completed. He's probably dangerously upset with us. By selling Adhara off to Dolohov, he's showing us that he'll do anything to make sure we know our place in his new kingdom. We're nothing more than pawns."

Draco raised an eyebrow. He hadn't thought of it that way. In fact, he didn't even think of it at all. Adhara's marriage had been strictly business, like Aunt Bella's and Uncle Rodolphus'. However, in their own way they came to care for one another. Perhaps, Adhara's marriage could be similar.

"Do you even understand what I'm talking about, Draco?" Hermione asked shrilly. She wiped her tears on the sleeve of her robe. "You know what, forget it!"

Draco watched as Hermione angrily stormed out of her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

><p><strong>Ministry of Magic<br>****Wednesday 5 August 1998**

Arcturus paced down the hallway away from his office. It had been nearly a week since he had an Elf-cooked meal. In fact the last time he had some decent food it had been at his sister's wedding. He'd been working long hours at the Ministry for the past month and a half. The Dark Lord willed it that he work double shifts to make sure that all the blood-traitors would be caught. They were resilient but Arcturus knew that he would find them either way.

Maybe after questioning the latest catch, he could go home and get a hot meal. Catching the next elevator down to the courtrooms, he rushed to Level 10. Tapping his foot impatiently he thought of his sisters. He hadn't seen either of them since the wedding. He shook his head. He really needed to get home to see his family.

"Level 10: Wizengamot Courtrooms," the elevator said. The doors opened and he hurriedly ran to the room that was designated for his questionings. The gold plate with the letter and number "A3" scratched into it stood in front of him. He swung the door open and closed it violently.

"Arcturus," said a familiar voice.

Ignoring the suspended body that was hanging from the ceiling, Arcturus hurried over to his old school friend, Scabior Greyback.

"Scabior," he nodded, embracing the werewolf.

Arcturus knew it wasn't Scabior's fault that he was a werewolf. His father happened to be the most barbaric, feral, and cruel werewolf in Britain. He had his uses and it was known what he was capable of. Fenrir's son, Scabior, wasn't as cutthroat as he was. Scabior opted to use other means to scare prisoners – not his fangs and claws. Arcturus considered the son to be a bit more intelligent than his father. But he knew Scabior would never rise against his father.

"I heard your sister got married," Scabior looked down at his feet once they pulled apart. It was clear to Arcturus that Scabior was trying to look nonchalant, but failed miserably.

"Yes," he answered. "It happened a few days ago. The Dark Lord preformed the ceremony." He looked knowingly at his long-time friend.

Scabior noticed Arcturus' stare. "He'll cherish her?"

Arcturus moved over to grip the back of the lone chair inside the room. He pondered this question as well. Arcturus had always been close to his sisters – more so with Adhara. Knowing she was to be married had crushed him. In some sick way he almost thought that their mother would marry her off to him. However illogical that thought was, their mother was even more illogical. Yet, Bellatrix had once again surprised him to the point of submission.

"I just don't know," Arcturus then turned his cruel gaze to his friend. "What's it to you?"

Yet Arcturus did know what it was to Scabior. Growing up at Hogwarts, Arcturus knew that Adhara had felt affectionate towards Scabior. She had voiced on more than one occasion how she'd have loved to pursue something with him. Alas, Scabior had turned her down; this devastated her.

Arcturus had watched with a certain disdain as Adhara's friendship with Scabior diminished. After a while, Scabior had been thrown in to Azkaban for using an Unforgiveable, murder, and extortion. This was just the catalyst that Arcturus needed to form an even tighter bond with Adhara. But Arcturus overlooked that his sister was a Pure breed and would be married off at any chance.

One thing was very much clear to Arcturus was that Scabior had grown feelings for one of his sisters. His heart dropped like a stone.

The werewolf ignored the question. He instead pointed to the body suspended from the ceiling. The person had been sobbing endlessly. Arcturus cringed inwardly. He wasn't like his mother, father or uncle Rabastan when it came to torture. He hated hearing someone scream. To him, it was downright annoying and superfluous.

Unsheathing his wand, Arcturus flicked it, allowing the body to float gently down from the invisible bonds.

"His name is Bernard Tucker – muggle-born. We found him in a forest. It seemed like he got separated from his group and campsite. He was picking mushrooms when I caught his scent," Scabior explained.

Arcturus nodded. "And his wand?"

"My father confiscated it. He sent it to Yaxley's office."

Again Arcturus nodded. "Mr. Tucker," he addressed the man.

The man let out a dry heave, as if he was choking on his tears.

"Mr. Tucker, I'm here to talk to you about your magic," Arcturus started.

But the man was not having any of that. He scoffed, gobs of spit hitting the table beneath him. Tucker's greasy, dark hair whipped around his head and his blue eyes bulged out of his skull.

"Struggling will not help your case. If you keep resisting, I will have to shut you in Azkaban," Lestrange spoke with an air of authority.

Tucker continued with his belligerent, non-vocal tirade.

"Has he been acting like this the whole time?" Arcturus turned to Scabior.

Scabior rolled his eyes. "On-again, off-again. He's intentionally doing it."

"Mr. Tucker, if you don't cease your behavior, I will have no choice but to remove you from Level 10," Arcturus murmured.

Tucker's eyes snapped up to glare at Arcturus. "You pureblood scum! You think you're better than everyone else!" Bernard Tucker let out a roar of anger before twisting in his invisible binds again.

Arcturus' eyes narrowed. "_Silencio_!"

Tucker stopped making noises, but continued to twist and turn.

"_Crucio_!" Arcturus muttered the curse under his tongue.

Tucker's face twisted in pain and anguish. His mouth was slack and a scream looked like it was dying to come out. Yet Arcturus and Scabior did not hear a squeak.

To Arcturus the unexplainable feeling of having this much power over a victim made his blood rush. His palms tingled and his brows scrunched together. He licked his lower lip.

"I need to hear him," Scabior said in low voice. Scabior's fists were clenched at his sides. He was tapping his foot in time with the silent screams.

Arcturus nearly saw his friend salivate. He didn't know if Scabior wanted to eat or fuck Bernard Tucker; especially with the way he seemed to be grinding himself against the table below Tucker.

The wizard removed the curse and then allowed the Mudblood to speak. "I repeat, Mr. Tucker," he twirled his wand around like a baton. "Are you willing to discuss your _magic_?" He spat out the last word as if it was a filthy word.

Tucker panted, the restraints tugging on his body. He looked around wildly. Arcturus could tell the man wanted to be away from them. He started swinging slowly in binds, as if that would get him away from Arcturus and Scabior. "Please, just let me go. I have a family," he pleaded.

Arcturus rolled his eyes. "We do not care about family, unless we catch them." He gave a slight pause. "Now, Mr. Tucker, where did you get your magic?"

The older wizard huffed in exasperation. "Is the Ministry still on this? Us muggle-borns haven't stolen anything. It's just your ridiculous fanaticism that has clouded your judgment."

"Crucio!" Arcturus pressed the curse upon Tucker.

The screams bounced from against the wall. His shrill voice nearly popped Arcturus' eardrums. Arcturus signaled for Scabior to follow him outside the interrogation room. Scabior shut the door behind him and turned to Arcturus who was leaning against the opposite wall. They could still hear Bernard screaming his lungs off.

"We're not going to get much from him," Arcturus commented.

Scabior nodded. "Agreed. What do you want me to do with him?"

Arcturus rubbed his bottom lip with his left thumb. He sheathed his wand. "Release the curse in thirty minutes then send him to the dementors. Allow him to fight them off."

"And then?"

"Kill him."

* * *

><p><strong>A Pub, Muggle London<br>****Friday 14 August 1998**

Draco Malfoy did not like these nights. He hated when he had to sneak out of his home in order to give and get a little information. He wasn't so thrilled that he had to be the one to do it, especially alone. Ever since his little spat with Hermione, things had been much different between the two cousins. Hermione refused to eat. She even refused to talk. She spent all her time in her room locked up preforming spells on various objects. His mother, Narcissa, told him that Hermione just needed some time alone. She needed to cope with having her sister across a body of water in a different land. Yet, that didn't solve _his _problems.

Draco pulled the hood of his cloak around his head tighter. He didn't really care if the Muggles looked with odd expressions at his attire. Soon they would be seeing these robes and cloaks around much more. The pub he entered was extremely loud. Men jostled each other around in a hysterical fashion. Draco had to swallow the bile that was tempted to spurt out of his mouth.

His contact had chosen to meet him here – deeming it safer to be seen here than anywhere else in the Wizarding world.

Across the room, he saw a short, thin man nod his way and motioned towards the bathrooms. He had sandy brown hair and curious sea green eyes. His nose was long and slightly ridiculous, as if it had been magic'd to be so. Draco sighed and hurried across the barroom floor, careful of the drunks sloshing around him.

When he reached the man, they entered the cubicle bathroom. The man locked it as Draco switched on the lights.

"Must you look like that?" Draco huffed and turned around to face the man

"What's wrong with it?" The man asked, baffled. His voice was curiously high-pitched.

Draco scoffed. "You look like a ponce!"

The man sighed, rolling his eyes. Draco watched slowly as the stranger's face turned into someone very familiar. Nymphadora Tonks …well, Lupin slowly transfigured into her usual self. Slightly tanned, which she most definitely got from her muggle-born father, brown eyed with dark golden brown hair. Her breasts filled out the shirt and she grew a bit taller.

"Is that better?" Tonks asked in exasperation.

Draco nodded. "Thanks." He paused and looked over his cousin. She looked tired. Before even uttering another word he pulled down his hood and hugged her. Caught unaware, it took Tonks a few seconds to adjust to this new bond that Draco felt for her. "How are you? Are you okay?"

Tonks pulled away and punched him teasingly in the arm. "I'm fine! Teddy's fine too. He's staying with my mum right now?"

"How is Auntie Andie?" Draco asked.

Tonks pulled some papers and envelopes out of a satchel hanging near her waist. "She's fine. She wants theses to be given to your mum. Don't let Auntie Bella get them."

Draco looked from Tonks' full hands to her face. "What's in them?" He took the parchments.

Tonks searched his face for treason. "Where's Harry?"

"We told you," Draco sighed. "Riddle Manor. But there is no way any of your people will be able to get inside. None of the Death Eaters are allowed within." He sounded exasperated.

Tonks turned around, positively fuming. When Hermione usually came with him to meet with Tonks, she would explain to their older cousin that Harry was under arrest. Yet his prison wasn't Azkaban. No one but the Dark Lord saw Harry. Everyone wondered when that would change.

"And Adhara?" Tonks questioned. Their eyes locked. "She hasn't written to me in three weeks."

Draco ran a hand through his dishelved hair. "She's moved to France …with her husband."

Tonks scoffed in disbelief. "Uncle Rodolphus went through with it? He actually married her off to Dolohov?" She shook her head. "I don't believe it. I mean I've read it in the papers, when we get the chance to get one. But I thought it was…"

"A ploy?" Draco chuckled darkly. "I told you the news, now tell me what I want to here? Can you get my mother and Hermione out of that house?" His face was serious now. He was devoted to getting the two out of the Malfoy Manor at the earliest time.

"And _I_ told you! It would take us a while to smuggle them out – perhaps a year. We can barely get enough food for refugees, Draco. We're struggling to survive. The only thing you can do is watch them and keep them safe." Tonks looked worried. "I have to go," she paused to look at him closely. "Kingsley will send out people to look for me if I'm not back in thirty minutes. When shall we meet next?"

Draco tried to take in what Tonks was telling him. There was no hope. He wouldn't be able to get his mother and Hermione out. He'd have to protect them from inside the walls of Malfoy Manor. He had struggled to do so before. He remember once the war was over and the Dark was victorious. Death Eaters were drunk with power. They ransacked homes of Wizarding families – pureblood, half-blood, and muggle-born. They raped and destroyed half-breeds. But most important to Draco, they had come into the Malfoy Manor and pushed themselves upon his family. He promised that would never happen again.

"Once Hermione receives word from Adhara," he turned towards the door, pulling up his hood. Before reaching for the knob he pocketed the parchments. "I'll write to you. Take care, Dora." And with that, Draco turned away, leaving his cousin alone in the water closet.

* * *

><p><strong>Dolohov Château<br>****Wednesday 26 August 1998**

Adhara flipped through the textbook that rested on the bed near her crossed legs. Tanith, the horned viper, had wrapped herself in Adhara's curly locks – entwining around the hair. The witch nibbled on the tip of her quill as she read a passage upon dragons.

She felt Tanith slip her tongue out against her forehead.

"_What in the world am I supposed to do with this egg?_" She spoke to Tanith while pointing the quill towards the dragon egg across the room.

"_Try hatching it_," Tanith chuckled.

"_With what? Do I look like I can breathe hot air?_" Adhara rolled her eyes. Sometimes Tanith was no help. She slammed the book shut. Using both hands, Adhara gently untangled Tanith from her hair and placed her upon the book. The witch then got out of bed and headed over to Antonin's desk across the large room. Sifting through some of the papers, she grabbed the letter she had received from the Dark Lord a week ago. He had wanted Adhara to attend the next Death Eater meeting at the beginning of September. He also requested to speak with her privately afterwards.

Sighing, Adhara crumbled the parchment and placed it back on the desk. She then reached for another book on Antonin's desk.

_Herpo's Guide to Basilisk Breeding._

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> Please be patient with my French. I'm still learning the language and conjugating verbs are sometimes difficult. Also everything in italics when talking to Tanith is spoken in Parseltongue.

Please review. I would love feedback.

-Rosie


	4. The Houses

The Rise of the Houses

**Malfoy Manor  
><strong>**Tuesday 1 September 1998**

Hermione's life was ever changing. It was something that she couldn't control. But she desperately wanted to. It was hard not being able to control certain aspects within her life.

The young witch sat in the large chair in the Malfoy Manor's library. Her uncle use to sit in it a lot and read her stories. This was all when she was young. Hermione missed those moments. The innocence of her youth was lost long before she was born. The path that she would lead was set in stone years before she was even thought of – years before her siblings were even thought of.

Arcturus and Adhara were her older siblings. The eldest, Arcturus, was a strong wizard but at times acted like a brain-dead, old fool. He wanted too much. Hermione knew that he meant well but she couldn't help but want to push him off the roof. He hovered around her too much. However, for the past month Arcturus was so busy with work that he hardly was at the Manor. Adhara differed from much of the Lestrange family – taking after Aunt Narcissa in personality and Aunt Andromeda in looks. Hermione also knew that Adhara meant well when it came to pushing her with studying. Her sister was always a scholar and Hermione liked that.

Despite her siblings' flaws, Hermione thought of herself as the black sheep of the Lestrange children. Arcturus and Adhara followed the Dark Arts – no questions asked. Hermione refused to be anywhere near it. This was growing increasingly difficult as the days went on. Especially with the Dark Lord walking about the Manor and her mother's determination to kill anything that rivaled the Dark Lord.

Hermione's relationship with Bellatrix had always been rocky. Bellatrix nearly forced Hermione into every situation in which the young witch didn't want to be in. And no matter how many times Rodolphus had to pull Bellatrix off Hermione, the mother and daughter always ended up in a Muggle-like brawl. This was something that many Death Eaters did not know how to react to. Hermione sometimes considered that maybe she was very similar to her mother …or maybe they were just too different.

The door to the library quietly creaked open as Hermione reminisced about some of her closest relatives. She didn't notice anyone stood in front of her until a dark curl hovered over her text. Slowly, Hermione left her daydream and tilted her head up to look into her mother's grinning face. Hermione's hair texture and eyes matched Bellatrix's – in fire and passion. Yet Hermione had been told since birth that she looked so much like Antoinette Lestrange, her father's mother.

"Good morning, my sweet pumpkin juice," Bellatrix sang before pushing herself upon the arm of the chair.

"Morning Mother," Hermione grimaced at the nickname Bellatrix had become so fond of. "What brings you to Uncle Lucius' private library?"

Bellatrix's dark eyes fluttered with bafflement. "What? Can't I see my _wittle_ baby from time to time?" Bellatrix used her infamous baby voice. It grated on Hermione's nerves.

"Mother, must you talk like that?" Hermione slammed her book shut. She twisted in her seat to look up at Bellatrix.

The older witch's smile fell. "Aquila, must you be so cruel all the time?" Her voice had returned to its native octave – alto and sultry with a hit of lunacy.

Hermione scoffed before pushing herself out of the chair. She walked over to one of the stacks to place the book upon the shelf. Bellatrix followed briskly. She leaned against the bookshelf as Hermione reached for another.

"Aquila, listen to me," Bellatrix said sternly. It was a tone that she rarely took. This startled Hermione, if only for a moment. The daughter turned towards her mother. "Listen, I understand. You're tired. But you just need to try a little more and all will be better. We're almost in our Lord's good graces again. Your father has sacrificed so much for our wellbeing."

"Whose wellbeing, Mother? Did Father ever think of Adhara's wellbeing?" Hermione asked tartly.

Bellatrix looked perplexed. "Of course he has. Your sister has done a good thing by marrying into a Pure family. Something that you'll have to do one day."

Hermione looked astonished at her mother. Her eyes were wide with shock and irritation. "You don't get it do you?" Hermione paused. "You sold your eldest daughter off to a Death Eater for affection from Voldemort!"

_CRACK!_

Hermione's head lashed back as her mother swung her open palm against her cheek. A warm flush bloomed across her skin and her eyes watered. Tears threatened to spill across her face. She was again caught unawares as Bellatrix pressed her against the bookshelf.

The young witch could see the lunatic grin that was across Bellatrix's face. There was a burning in her hooded eyes. "Don't you ever use our Lord's name in vain," Bellatrix said darkly, teeth clenched. "He's done things for this family that you couldn't even imagine. Your sister is doing something for this family that you couldn't even imagine. And soon, Aquila Hermione Lestrange, you will have to do the same – just like all the woman in our family have had to do. Except of course for your Aunt Andromeda, who shamed the House of Black. And if you even think about doing something as disgraceful as that, you'll have the pleasure of humming under the Cruciatus Curse." Bellatrix's lips hovered close to Hermione's ear. Hermione grimaced as she felt her mother's warm tongue flick against her earlobe like a snake testing the air. "Do you understand?"

Hermione tried to push against her mother in one final attempt of insubordination. Yet Bellatrix was having none of that; the Dark witch grabbed a fistful of Hermione's hair and yanked. Hermione whimpered but was hushed as Bellatrix scratched idly at the girl's scalp. "Do you understand, Aquila?"

"How many times do I have to tell you, Mother? Call me Hermione," she gritted out with a small smirk on her face.

Bellatrix gave a sharp tug to Hermione's hair. "Aquila," she warned.

"Yes, I understand," Hermione sighed.

Bellatrix pulled away. "Good." She then reached for Hermione's blouse and pulled the fabric down for it had ridden up during their tiff. "The Dark Lord requests that you attend the next meeting this Friday," Bellatrix said as she deliberately messed up Hermione's hair in an effort to make it look more like her own. "Your brother and sister will be there, as well Draco. _He_ has a task for you both."

Hermione pulled away. "Another?"

"Yes, another," Bellatrix lifted an eyebrow. "Before you ask, I don't know what it's for." Without saying good-bye, Bellatrix turned on her heel and walked towards the library door.

"Mummy," Hermione said quietly. She honestly didn't think Bellatrix would hear her.

Very slowly Bellatrix turned, her face softened for this brief moment.

"Addie's birthday was last Tuesday. Did you forget?"

The older witch looked confused but then she grew pale, sickened by the thought of forgetting her daughter's birthday. "It was, wasn't it?"

Hermione sighed. "Yes." Then Hermione gripped her fists tightly at her sides. "Will you forget mine?"

Bellatrix paused; her infamous dark grin graced her features. "The nineteenth? I won't miss it."

Hermione returned the same grin.

* * *

><p><strong>Malfoy Manor<br>****Thursday 3 September 1998**

"But Father!" Arcturus shouted while slamming his fist against the desk.

"No Arcturus! My word is final." Rodolphus shouted back from his side of the desk. "There is absolutely no way I could even approach the subject with Him."

"Why not? It's perfect and it gives us a position of power," his son looked at him pointedly. It was clear Arcturus was covertly trying to egg his father on.

"Why can you not understand this? We're on thin ice as it is. Hermione and Draco properly fucked us over with that." Rodolphus ran a hand through his hair. A vein throbbed near his temple.

"But this is an excellent idea. He'll reward you for this," Arcturus said a bit softly.

"The Dark Lord will not reward us with anything at this point," Rodolphus said darkly. "The best we can do is follow orders."

Arcturus scoffed. "Follow orders? You'd like us to follow orders?" The son rolled his eyes before slamming a fist down once more. "We're Purebloods. We should follow no one!"

Rodolphus' darkened with rage. It wasn't as if his son was necessarily wrong but it was the fact that he insinuated to defy the Dark Lord. That would get them killed.

At that moment Rabastan, who was sprawled out on the sofa of the study, thought it was a nice time to intervene. "Alright, alright, stop your quarreling. Arcturus," Rabastan sat up to look at his nephew. "We understand what you are saying. And I for one will say I whole-heartedly agree with your reasoning. But…"

Arcturus looked at his uncle with wide eyes. "But…" he prompted.

"But it isn't the right time. The Dark Lord has many plans for all of us. When he finally gets what he wants from the Potter boy, he'll decide what to do with us," Rabastan said.

Arcturus shivered; clearly not liking the tone or what his uncle was saying.

From across the room, Lucius sat in an arm chair reading a book. He slammed the book shut. "May I remind all three of you that if the Dark Lord was going to instate one of us into office as the French Minister for Magic, he would place Antonin at the helm."

The room was blasted into a surreal quietness.

"Ahh," Lucius paused, a small deranged smirk slithered on his face. After the war, Lucius seemed to have recuperated right afterwards, but not in a healthy way. "No one thought of that. There was a reason, of course, for Antonin staying at his summer home in France."

"The Dark Lord asked him," Arcturus said out loud what everyone else was thinking. "So, you believe the Dark Lord put Antonin in France to make him Minister once the current one is assassinated?"

"All I'm saying, Arcturus, is that we've already taken over Ireland; captured the Scandinavian countries; pillaged Germany; and successfully defiled Russia and the Balkans. The Dark Lord will be after the Mediterraneans soon. And to get there he'll need France. He's been saving France for last."

"That's the country where most Pureblooded families originated from," Rabastan said pointedly.

Rodolphus cursed loudly and hit the desk with his open palms. "You believe this to be his plan all along?"

Lucius chuckled. "Of course not. Immortality has been his focal point. Hermione has told me that many times. Potter and she discussed this frequently to the point where they almost destroyed most of his horcruxes." He sighed sarcastically, "Alas, they failed."

Arcturus quickly digested this information. It couldn't be. He wanted to beg the Dark Lord to give the position of Minister for Magic of France to his father – the rightful heir. But perhaps…

"This could work to our advantage," Arcturus said quickly, before he commenced with his pacing. "He's married to Adhara. If we could get Adhara on the inside and gain enough information to have us take over, we could…" he paused thinking of what he wanted to say next. "We could have the power."

"Whoa," Rabastan laughed. "Slow down there. Like Roddy said, we're on thin ice as it is. Turning against anything the Dark Lord should be the last thing we ever think of."

* * *

><p><strong>The Leaky Cauldron<br>****Thursday 3 September 1998**

_Dear Nymph – _

_I've received word from Aunt Bella that Addie and Mr. Dolohov will be attending the next Death Eater meeting this Friday. I've also heard from her that Hermione will be attending the meeting. This will be her first meeting and hopefully her last. However, it seems that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has a new task for the both of us. I will try to tell you what it is as soon as I learn about it. I'll keep her safe …or at least try to do this. _

_Mother told me to tell you to tell your mum that the paper work did not make sense. The wedding presents were plentiful. But the two packages that were peculiar were the snake and dragon egg. And Addie spoke Parseltongue; this makes no sense since no one in our family has that gift. Nevertheless, I'll tell her to write to you in this ink when she arrives. _

_Love, Dragon_

As soon as he was done writing the letter to his cousin, the ink from Draco's quill evaporated into the parchment – turning invisible. Tonks would need a password to activate the writing. He only hoped she would guess right. He slipped the paper in an envelope and wrote "Nymph Black" on the front. He folded the whole package and handed it to the person across from him.

"Longbottom, be sure to give this to her. Please, it's important," Draco pleaded.

"Yeah, yeah Malfoy. Just keep your eyes on Hermione. If one piece of hair on her head is ripped out tomorrow…" Neville said roughly.

"Don't worry," Draco cut him off quickly. "She'll be safe with me."

The Gryffindor did not believe him.

* * *

><p><strong>Dolohov Château<br>****Friday 4 September 1998**

Adhara awoke on Friday morning with a gripping pang within her stomach. Her gut clenched as she sat upright. Her hand searched for husband's hand that was usually lying on her. However, when she looked over, Pierre was curled up in his place. Perhaps Antonin had business to attend to before the meeting later in the day? The childlike Pierre must have wandered into the room after Antonin had left.

Carefully the witch swung her legs off the bed to sit up fully. Another pang gripped her stomach as her gorge rose. Not even caring to grab her robe, Adhara hurried to the connecting bathroom. When the door slammed open, Pierre stirred in the bed.

Yet she wasn't worried about that. She was more concerned with the bile climbing her throat. Rushing to the toilet, Adhara nearly threw her head into the open porcelain bowl. Her stomach lurched once more before throwing a wet heave into the toilet. The splatter nearly made her vomit even more. Not to mention the smell. Did vomit normally smell this bad? She could even smell the filet mignon and broccoli from last night.

"Addie?" Pierre called from the doorway.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Adhara tossed him a look. "Please, Pepé, don't come any closer. I'm ill."

Her brother-in-law scoffed. "Well I'm _mentally_ ill and I can say when I can come to the help of a damsel in distress." Pierre walked in, almost rushing to her side. He held her hair away from her face and patted the crown of her head. "Did you eat something bad?"

"I don't think so," she said, licking her lips. Adhara grimaced. Pierre helped her stand – taking her to the wash basin so she could clean her mouth while he brushed her hair back.

"Are you with child?" Pierre asked with candor.

Fresh tap water nearly flew from her mouth but she managed to swallow it. "Pardon me?" Adhara was bewildered by his question.

"Are you with child? Pregnant?" He explained.

Adhara was at a loss for words. Did she miss her period? It was supposed to come around her birthday. She had been so caught up with her research on dragon breeding that she had forgotten her birthday. She was even more involved with her research on basilisks and cockatrices that she couldn't even remember when she last bleed. She had had sex with her husband three times after they were married but that was it. Of course she knew he wanted children and so did she; but this was too soon.

The witch protectively placed her hand over her lower belly. She looked into the mirror at Pierre behind her. He wore a goofy grin and his greying curly hair looked disheveled. His eyes reiterated what he had said.

"_You are pregnant._"

Adhara looked at the ground near Pierre's bare feet. She and her brother-in-law had not noticed Tanith had slithered in to the bathroom.

Slowly and very thoughtfully, she uttered similar words. "I'm pregnant."

* * *

><p><strong>Malfoy Manor<br>****Friday 4 September 1998**

"I have come a long way with the Potter boy," the Dark Lord stated thickly. His red eyes nearly burned holes through all of his Death Eaters and closest supporters. "As many of you know, I've been keeping him very safe within the confinements of one of my properties. My reasoning," he paused, sweeping his gaze once more, "Is that the more contact he has with me, the more he'll be able to bend to our will.

"He has decided to," a slow dark smile stretched across his face. "How shall I put this? Harry Potter has joined our campaign."

Gasps were heard amongst everyone in the room. Hermione's gut dropped within her. The Dark Lord must have been torturing him for so long.

"I have been teaching him the Dark Arts every day. Last week, I finally made some headway."

Hermione couldn't keep her mouth shut at this point. "My Lord, what did you have him do?" Hermione wouldn't deny it; she was downright frightened for Harry. From across the table her sister gave her a stern look.

The Dark Lord seemed thrilled to answer this question. "He successfully performed the killing curse on one Muggle by the name of Vernon Dursley, his maternal uncle by marriage." He grinned, "The boy took much pleasure out of that act."

Hermione heard and felt everyone softly chuckle at the Dark Lord's statement.

Why did she come to this meeting? Why was she _even_ invited? The Dark Lord knew that she had been friends with Harry during their school years – that wouldn't change now. Hermione felt a ball of emotion curl itself in her throat. Draco, who was seated next to her, held her hand underneath the table and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Madam Malfoy," the Dark Lord said, "The boy will need a more permanent place to stay."

Narcissa nodded, more to herself. "Of course, my Lord; anything, my Lord."

The Dark Lord then straightened up in his seat. "Draco, Hermione, you will be the ones to train him."

Hermione felt Draco's hand squeeze her fingers tighter. She gritted her teeth.

After the Dark Lord spoke, Hermione couldn't hear the rest of the meeting. Blood was rushing to her head and she was beginning to get lightheaded. Train Harry? She shook her head to herself; her brown curls twirled around her. Hermione almost wanted to laugh. The Dark Lord wanted her to teach Harry the Dark Arts. She shook her head again. Hermione silently added another mission, which she would surely mess up, to the list. She gave a short look to Draco and then her sister. They both showed similar faces of displeasure.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>Please review. I would love feedback

-Rosie


	5. The Truth

One Step Closer to the Truth

**Lower Dungeons, Azkaban Prison  
><strong>**Friday 9 October 1998**

"_Bombarda!_" Arcturus yelled out. A gust of, what seemed like, air shot out from his wand and blasted against the stonewall to the right of Scabior.

Scabior flew to the floor to cover his head. Pushing up off of the ground, the werewolf spun around, looking for more cover. "_Impedimenta!_" A series of red flashes emitted from the tip of his wand and smashed into Arcturus' wand arm.

"Fuck," he groaned as the spell nearly froze his arm.

Scabior, glad that Arcturus was momentarily stunned, ran for cover at a large discarded rock.

"_Crucio! Crucio! Crucio!_" Arcturus shouted, clearly upset that his friend had incapacitated his arm. The torturing curse did not work.

"Would you calm down!" Scabior shouted back at his friend. "_Protego,_" he muttered. A silvery shield formed in front of him. He used his free hand to making a turning motion – insuring that the spell would ward off anything that Arcturus tossed his way. "It's only practice!"

"_Stupefy!_" Arcturus casted. He quickly side-stepped away when the spell rebounded from Scabior's shield.

In that moment, Scabior dropped the shield. "_Expelliarmus_!" The werewolf said it with enough force that Arcturus' wand flew out of his hand and the Pureblooded wizard flew back into the opposite wall. The stone crumbled under the blast and weight.

Arcturus, momentarily stunned, took a few moments to inch his way up off the floor. He shook his head. "What…" he coughed. "What the bloody hell was that, Scab?" He looked over at his friend. His long hair was disheveled and looked nearly burned at the tips from the _Incendio_ that was casted fifteen minutes prior.

"I'll tell you what that was," Scabior said while briskly walking towards him. Scabior threw his right fist into Arcturus' face.

Arcturus gripped his face in shock. He winced as he felt his nose break. "Sweet Salazar," Arcturus cursed. "What is wrong with you?"

Scabior chuckled. "That's for nearly burning my hair off and trying to torture me, you wanker!" Scabior grabbed Arcturus' wand from the floor and gave it to his friend. Then he pointed his own wand at Arcturus' nose. "_Episkey_," he muttered.

Arcturus groaned as the cartilage reset itself. He felt his friend grab hold of his arm and apparated them back to Arcturus' office at the Ministry. Scabior dropped Arcturus and walked over to the vacant loveseat against the far wall.

"Merlin's beard, Scabior. You know I hate side-along," Arcturus tried to grip both his nose and stomach. He couldn't. It seemed like he lost sense of his motor skills.

"Get used to it," Scabior grinned and flopped down on the couch. Arcturus watched as he begun to untie his boots and slowly slide his feet out of them. "You really got me in there."

Regaining his senses, Arcturus wobbled over to his desk chair and gently sat down in it. "I think you broke my back," he said sarcastically.

"You had it coming," Scabior mocked. His face then grew serious as he slowly massaged his sweaty toes. "What the hell is wrong with you? You acted all crazed. No disrespect to your _wonderful_ mum, but you were her exact replica in there."

Arcturus chuckled. "None taken." He panted before placing his forehead on his desk. "I don't know what to do, Scab," he said with all seriousness.

"Hm?"

"Father won't listen to me."

"Dads aren't supposed to listen to their sons, Arcturus. It just doesn't work like that." Scabior ran a hand threw his dirty long hair. "Have you said anything to your sisters? I mean about your plans."

"Like I could tell Hermione," Arcturus scoffed. "She won't have anything to do with what I'm planning. You should have seen her face at the meeting last month."

"You mean when the Dark Lord told her about Potter?" Scabior raised an eyebrow. "Too bad I wasn't there; it's not like I was invited to such an exclusive meeting." Scabior rolled his eyes.

Arcturus looked up at his friend. "As much as I hate half-breeds, I wouldn't have done what the Dark Lord did to your father's Pack."

Again Scabior rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter. What's done is done. My dad will continue to be used by him until he stupidly realizes we've gotten nowhere." He paused. "If you were the leader of this regime, I wouldn't hesitate to follow you completely, Arcturus."

Arcturus pondered on this briefly. Was he power hungry enough to take what the Dark Lord had so graciously created? It was treason even thinking of this. Arcturus shook his head. Regardless there was no way that he could see anything of the sort happening. His father had blatantly said no.

"It doesn't matter," Arcturus commented. "Because it won't happen."

Scabior sighed. "I see.' He then slipped on his boots. "What does Adhara think of this?"

Arcturus winced. It seemed like his friend knew exactly how to trigger a reaction out of him. "That doesn't matter either." He sighed, "I suppose she's too busy playing housewife with her husband to even see the bigger picture."

"We should visit her. Gain her opinion," Scabior went to door and opened it before Arcturus could respond. "Food for thought."

* * *

><p><strong>A Safe House in Ireland<br>****Saturday 10 October 1998**

Draco held Hermione's hand tightly in his own. Using his other, he lightly tapped on the dark wooden door. They waited a few moments until someone on the other side spoke.

"Password?" Draco recognized it as the airy voice of Luna Lovegood.

He pulled out the piece of parchment from his pocket. It was a letter he received from Tonks a week ago. Unfolding it, Draco read the password out loud.

"Tortoise runs fast." He looked at Hermione with confusion. She shrugged.

"Access granted. Hold one moment," Luna said.

Draco pocketed the letter. He stayed quiet as heard clicks and locks turning. Then the door swung open.

Luna's long, curly, platinum hair was pulled back in a haphazard plait. Her colourful clothes were wrinkled and a bit dirty.

"Hermione, Draco," she said before pulling them into a tight hug. "How are the both of you?"

Hermione pulled back first to look her friend up and down. "We are very well, Luna. May we come in?"

Luna let go of Draco and stepped back. "Yes, yes, please come in."

The two cousins walked in while Luna shut the door and placed back the locks to their original position. Draco turned and looked around the home. It was completely empty with brick walls and wooden floorboards. It would have been extremely dark if it wasn't for the large chandelier lamp on the ceiling.

"Where is everyone?" Draco asked.

Luna, who had been watching him intently, pointed at the lone elevator shaft built into the far wall. She walked towards them and pulled a lever. The caged door opened and she stepped into the dimly lit lift. She waved them forward. Tentatively, Hermione looked towards Draco and took the first step – pulling him forward in the process. Together they both stepped into the lift with Luna. The blonde girl pulled another lever and the doors closed. The machinery plunged down rapidly. The force pushed Hermione and Draco against the wall of the elevator.

"Oof," they both winced.

Luna stood contently, humming a soft tune. The lift suddenly halted throwing the two against the floor.

"Shite," Draco cursed.

The door creaked open. Slowly the two cousins picked themselves up off the floor as Luna exited the lift. The followed slowly. Draco vaguely heard Hermione gasp. He was momentarily shocked at what was in front of them. It seemed like a complete underground village had been built here, similar to how the Ministry was created. Families roamed free holding bags or selling items. Children played magical games with each other near a main aqueduct station. The atrium of the village had many tables similar to the ones in the Great Hall of Hogwarts – this appeared to be where people ate.

Draco vaguely heard the doors to the lift shut before he felt Hermione tug on the sleeve of his coat. "Is this real?" She asked.

"Of course it is," Luna answered. "Come on," she walked towards the atrium. "You'll have to stay here. I'm sure Mrs. Tonks and Mrs. Lupin are on their way down now."

"Luna, how did you know to wait for us? Did our cousin tell you?" Draco asked.

Luna only nodded and skipped off. When Hermione and Draco reached the atrium tables, they felt many curious glances towards them. Draco pulled her closer.

"At least they are thriving," Draco commented on the state of the survivors of the War.

"Hermione! Draco!" They turned around to see four figures running towards them.

Ginny Weasley ran right into Hermione's open arms. The two friends embraced for they hadn't seen each other since the Battle in May. Draco watched Ron came up to embrace the two as well. The next two figures to approach were his Aunt Andromeda and Tonks, nestled in his cousin's arms was a sleeping baby. He saw Hermione detangle herself from Ron and Ginny to embrace Aunt Andromeda and she then turned to Tonks. The cousins had tears in their eyes. Draco watched as Tonks gently laid the baby in Hermione's awaiting arms.

Draco felt a lump of emotion swell in his throat. He swallowed thickly. This reunion was too much. He hadn't expected or anticipated this.

"How is she?" He heard Ron say next to him.

Draco had never gotten along with Ronald Weasley, but they did agree on one thing: Hermione's safety.

He nodded. "I'm doing everything I can."

Ronald grabbed him and turned him around. "Thank you." He pulled his old rival into a hug. "And you?" He pulled back. "How are you holding up? I hear it's pretty rough over there nowadays."

Draco was momentarily caught off guard. He never though Ron would be affectionate towards him. Draco took in Ron's appearance. The usual brawny Weasley looked gaunt with a slight case of malnutrition – as did most of the tenants of this underground city. "It's always been rough." He paused, "How long do you think it will take before you can get us out of their officially?"

Andromeda cut in. She moved forward to embrace Draco but then looked at him hard. "You both must stay there for now. I don't even know how you managed to get out of there so easily."

"I told Aunt Cissy we'd be going to Diagon Alley," Hermione explained.

"Regardless," Andromeda looked at all of the children. "You both need to be there to keep an eye on everything. We need people on the inside. Severus is dead and you must finish what he started. What of Adhara?"

"She attended the last Death Eater meeting and then she met with the Dark Lord privately. After that her husband took her and left," Draco said quietly.

"She wrote to me three weeks ago. I sent her a letter back and never go anything in return," Tonks put in.

"Did He give her a mission?" Ginny asked.

Hermione and Draco shrugged.

"We have no idea," Hermione said, looking down at the babe in her arms. "I'll try to visit her soon."

"Try to get her closer to you. We can't do anything if she's in France," Andromeda said.

Draco gulped. "There's something else. He gave us a mission. It has to do with Harry."

Hermione turned away, determined not to cry.

"He's alive?" Ginny whimpered. "Is he okay?"

"We won't see him until sometime next month. The Dark Lord wants us to train him in the Dark Arts," he sighed.

"What?" Tonks gasped. "But the both of you never really studied it."

"Narcissa would never had agreed to it," Andromeda muttered.

Draco nodded. "I know but that's what he wishes. Hermione has a theory."

With this cue, Hermione handed Teddy off to Andromeda. She clasped her hands behind her back. "I believe the Dark Lord wants us to covertly coerce Harry over to the darkness. Immerse him in the culture, not necessarily to teach. If the Dark Lord wanted to teach Harry, he'd do that himself. But we must now figure out why He would want to teach the-Boy-Who-Lived."

* * *

><p><strong>Dolohov Château<br>****Thursday 15 October 1998**

Adhara held the dark bronze egg in both hands. She nestled it to her breasts as if it was the unborn child within her. She caressed the ridges of the shell. Licking her lips, she looked at the dragon's egg. Tanith had taken her usual spot, buried in Adhara's curls, and hissed – flicking her tongue against Adhara's scalp.

The witch looked at the cauldron in front of her. The liquid was boiling but she didn't feel comfortable placing the egg within the cauldron like the Dark Lord had explained the month before.

"_I'm not comfortable with this_," she whispered to Tanith. "_The books don't say anything about hatching a basilisk within a cauldron._"

"_And usually a basilisk only hatches from chicken egg._" Adhara could hear the humour in the snake's words.

She rolled her eyes. "_Well then why don't you lay on it if you know so much?_"

"I love when you speak Parseltongue."

Adhara whirled around to see her husband leaning against the door to the cellar. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Enough to understand you were in a deep conversation." He paused before continuing. "I was going to send an elf to tell you that dinner's ready, but I thought I'd visit you myself. Your appetite seems heightened these days." Antonin started towards her.

Adhara placed the dragon's egg in its cushioned box on the worktable beside her. She took Tanith off her head and placed the snake on the egg. She shrugged. It was worth a try. Tanith nodded.

"I suppose," she patted the snake lightly. "I haven't been paying attention." Adhara turned around to see Antonin standing behind her. This startled her. He continued to back her up against the table.

"Clearly," he commented. He pressed his thumb to her lower lip. He brushed the digit against the plump flesh. "I've been away on business."

She nodded before flicking out her tongue to taste his flesh.

Antonin shivered. "Talk to me."

"We should go to dinner. Pierre will be waiting," she whispered.

Backing her against a part of the table that was free of objects and animals, Antonin lifted her upon the table. "Let him." He paused, "Now say something in Parseltongue."

She smirked darkly before emitting a low sultry hiss.

Tanith rolled her orange cat-like eyes and watched as Antonin moved in to kiss Adhara. The witch continued to hiss.

* * *

><p><strong>Malfoy Manor<br>****Sunday 18 October 1998**

"What about Amycus?" Rodolphus Lestrange asked Bellatrix within the confinements of their bedroom.

His wife cackled in amusement. "Are you bloody insane? I would never allow it."

Rodolphus nearly broke into laughter at the thought as well. "Hmm, perhaps Thorfinn? He's been rather noble and loyal. He's also a great duelist."

"He's friends with Antonin," Bellatrix muttered.

"And?"

"Are you just saying this because Antonin is married to Adhara?"

"What does that have to do with anything, Bella?"

"Why pick Thorfinn Rowle? He's a few years younger than Rabastan," Bellatrix argued.

"So you want her to marry someone her own age?" Rodolphus asked.

"Actually yes; what about Nott's son? What's his name? He's friends with Draco," Bellatrix snapped her fingers trying to remember the boy's name.

"Theodore?"

"Yes!"

"I suppose," Rodolphus muttered.

From outside their bedroom door, Hermione perched herself against the floor. She bit her lip as silent tears rolled down her cheeks. Her parents were going to marry her off; just like they had done to Adhara. More than anything, Hermione wanted to see her sister. If they were still living in the same house, she would have dashed off to Adhara's bedroom and into her awaiting arms. And that's just what she did even if her sister wasn't there.

* * *

><p><strong>Dolohov Château<br>****Thursday 22 October 1998**

"Are you crazy? You come into my home and ask this of me. My husband could have walked in on us discussing this," Adhara stood up from the table flinging her tea cup against one of the walls.

"That's why we asked if Antonin and Pierre would be home," Arcturus commented.

Adhara wailed in outrage. "I can't believe you, Arcturus. Do you have any idea how much you're risking? Our lives – Hermione's life especially. She's just a child. But no! You want to go up against the Dark Lord to take over."

Arcturus watched as his sister threw her tantrum. He ducked as a cauldron cake was hurled towards him. He looked over at Scabior who was intently watching Adhara, nostrils flared. Arcturus raised an eyebrow. He ducked again as the plate soon followed – shattering against the wall.

"Addie, please, we need you to help us. Antonin will most likely be placed as Minister for Magic," Arcturus pleaded.

This stopped his sister. Her curly hair crackled with magic, her brown eyes wide and crazed, and her face bright. "Of France?"

"Yes," Arcturus let out a breath of relief. He watched as Adhara placed her right hand against her lower stomach; she slowly began to sit down.

Still breathing heavily, the woman spoke. "Get out."

"What?" Arcturus raised an eyebrow.

"Both of you get out of my house," Adhara gritted.

Scabior stood first, his back straight as a board. His nostrils flared again. Arcturus looked at his friend quizzically.

"Have you told anybody?" Scabior looked straight at Adhara, his gaze burning.

Adhara looked momentarily stunned. She looked down and then back up. "Pierre is the only person who knows."

"Knows what?" Arcturus asked in confusion.

Scabior's fists were clenched at his sides, nostrils flaring yet again. "Your sister is pregnant." With that, Scabior walked angrily out of the dining hall.

Arcturus was speechless as he looked at his sister. His eyes fluttered slightly as though he would faint. "Come again?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>Please review. I would love feedback.

-Rosie


	6. Meetings

The Sirens of Meetings

**Malfoy Manor  
><strong>**Tuesday 3 November 1998**

Draco Malfoy sensed his cousin's nervousness. It was the day when they would meet Harry Potter …again. Draco watched as Hermione paced back in forth across the cellar floor. She was worrying her lip and her hands were burrowed in her thick curly hair. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose; he felt a headache coming on.

Fifteen minutes passed and suddenly the door opened. The way Draco imagined it was Harry running into the arms of Hermione. They would embrace and cry – followed by a horrific snogging session. His lips quirked at this thought. But none of that happened.

Harry Potter shuffled into the room before receiving a kick in the backside from Augustus Rookwood. Harry fell to the floor. He wore the same clothing from the Battle, however it seemed to have been cleaned repetitively due to its washed-out appearance. His hair was shaggy and dirty – very desperate for a good wash. Draco wouldn't have been surprised if he had lice. From Draco's view, he could see Harry's bloody knuckles were scabbed and nearly pus-filled.

Hermione gasped and glared daggers at Augustus. "You swine," she shouted. Dashing over to Harry, she went to help him up. "When the Dark Lord finds out this is how you treated him…"

"He'll do what?" Augustus mocked. He gave a dark smirk before leaving the three teenagers with each other.

Hermione turned to look at Harry. "Harry!" She grasped his head in her warm palms. "Harry! Look at me." Hermione pulled at him. When the boy looked up, both Draco and Hermione gasped in shock.

Harry's face was gaunt and pale. His green eyes that usually were bright with light, now seemed cloudy and murky. The stubble on his face was greasy and there was blood on his upper lip – ultimately crusting over the dark hairs. The scar upon his forehead was open and festered – a dark brown substance leaked from it.

"Draco," Hermione whimpered, looking at her cousin. "Go get your mother, please."

Her pleading made his heart clench. So he ran out of the cellar and up the staircase. "Mother!" He shouted. Draco felt like a child again. It reminded him of the time Hermione had fallen against the fountain in the gardens. She had scraped her knee and shin very badly. Draco had run all throughout the Manor looking for Narcissa.

Draco snapped out of his reverie and ran up the stairs to his mother's personal wing. He threw open the door to her private study. "Mother!" He gasped, quite out of breath.

Narcissa looked up from the book she was reading on her ottoman. Her face paled as she looked upon her only son. "Draco?" She sat up. "What is it?"

"Potter is here. He's badly wounded," Draco said wide-eyed. Draco turned around as his mother got up and retrieved a purple bag from her desk. He started walking, quickly followed by his mother.

When he returned to the cellar, with Narcissa in tow, he watched with sadness as Hermione swept Harry's bangs from his face. She was careful not to touch the scar. Narcissa swiftly walked past Draco and fell to the floor beside Hermione.

"Sweet Circe," Narcissa gasped, looking at Harry's wounds thoroughly. The older witch dug into the purple bag and pulled out a bottle. Unscrewing the cap, she sucked up some liquid in the connecting stopper and squirted the liquid carefully on Harry's knuckles. The boy winced in pain and then fell slack against Hermione's lap. Hermione held him tightly.

"Draco," Narcissa beckoned her son over. "There is a glass in the bag, fill it with water."

Draco reached for his mother's handbag as she continued pouring dittany into Harry's wounds. Placing his hand within the purse, he reached for the water goblet. Draco pulled his wand out from his robes and casted, "_Aguamenti_."

Slowly the goblet filled with water. Draco grabbed the glass and then tilted it towards Harry's lips. "Drink, Potter."

Harry sipped from the goblet with some streams of liquid running down his chin. His healed hands moved up to hold on to the glass – clasping on to Draco's warm hands.

"Drink slowly, Harry." Hermione swept his fallen bangs out of the way.

"This will sting," Narcissa said. Her hand hovered over Harry's forehead while the stopper made contact. Slowly the essence of dittany fell upon his scar. Harry sputtered out the water and gritted his teeth. Draco could only imagine the pain it must have been. Harry's eyes clenched shut as the dittany glazed across his eyes.

"It hurts," Harry moaned.

"I know," Narcissa smoothed. She touched the wound gently – only a touch a mother would have. "It will make you feel better though."

Harry gave a tight nod. A sweat broke out across his face. Beads of perspiration dripped down and swirled with the liquid.

Narcissa turned to Draco. "What did the Dark Lord have planned for today?"

To his shock, Harry answered. "Tom wanted them to explain how things go around here. The hierarchy," Harry wiped his face off with his dirty sleeve.

"Tom?" Narcissa whispered, not understanding who Harry was talking about.

"The Dark Lord," Hermione clarified.

"I reckon he wanted to humiliate Draco," Harry whispered. "Talking about how the family has fallen."

Narcissa nodded and reached inside her handbag for a cloth. She wiped Harry's face clean. Draco peered at the scar. It looked like how it was when they were school children. It was darker than the rest of his skin tone and quite shiny.

"It looks back to normal," Draco commented.

Hermione nodded in agreement.

Narcissa let out a soft sigh. "You three won't be participating in any sort of lesson today. Harry needs to clean up. We'll get you some fresh clothing as well." She wrinkled her nose. "This smells atrocious," she said, referring to the clothing he wore.

"But…" Harry tried to speak.

"No buts." Narcissa stood up. "I'll draw you a bath myself. Hermione help me get him to my bathroom." She looked at her son. "And please, get this boy some clean clothes."

* * *

><p><strong>Dolohov Château<br>****Friday 13 November 1998**

Adhara stirred the cauldron. She was too busy staring blankly at the dragon's egg on the worktable that she didn't hear the cellar door open with a bang. She did hear the swift footsteps behind her and felt the large hand gripping her hair from behind. Her head was yanked upright. The glass spoon fell from her hand as she winced in pain.

"Ah!" She let out a yelp.

"How dare you keep such a thing from me!" Adhara heard her husband whisper furiously in her ear.

Although the grip on her hair was harsh, Antonin was very gentle on how he pushed her against the table. This was a silent confession that he knew she was pregnant.

"I'm sorry, my love," she hissed out. When she saw Tanith try and intervene by springing from her perch on the egg, she quickly said, "_Do nothing._"

He pulled on her hair tighter. "Don't you even think of setting that blasted viper on me." Antonin pulled Adhara away from the table.

The witch heard loud footsteps come from the cellar doorway.

"Please, brother," Pierre whimpered.

Adhara felt him rush over to them and tried to wedge his way in between them – like a small child who had found his parents arguing and desperately wanted them to stop.

Antonin pushed his brother out of the way and then moved to drag Adhara back towards the cellar door. She slipped, toppling backwards against Antonin. Yet he didn't drop her; simply held her against him. His grip on her hair loosened.

Pierre had scrambled up off the floor and reached for his wand within his robes. He raised it – pointing it had the struggling couple. "Please, brother. Let her go," Pierre whined; desperately trying to get a grip of the turmoil. He pushed his hair back, scratching his scalp hurriedly. "Please, I'm sure she didn't mean it."

Tears had gathered at the corners of her eyes. Antonin turned her around and gripped her by shoulders. "Why didn't you tell me you were with child?" He shook her.

"I said let her go," Pierre took a step forward.

Antonin's blue eyes had darkened and were glaring at Pierre. "Don't talk to me." He turned towards his wife. "How could you keep this from me? How long did you think you could get away it? What if He sent you on a mission? What if you got hurt? What if the child got hurt?" He let her go and turned away to clench his fists. "Did you ever think of that for a second?" His nostrils flared and his tongue flicked out, as if testing the air. "This cellar smells fucking terrible. What if the fumes killed you?"

Adhara shivered violently. "How did you find out?"

"I ran into your brother in Knockturn Alley when I went to pick up that Turkish wizard's heart you requested for your breeding potion," he waved his hand in the direction of her cauldron. "Do you know what he said?"

She shook her head. Her eyes looked at the floor behind Antonin's feet. A box that she assumed contained the heart was on the floor near the door. She needed that thing to get her potion started. She needed it to hatch the egg.

Antonin stepped into her line of vision, capturing her attention. "Well, he congratulated me on the soon-to-be new edition to the family. Imagine my surprise when I found out my wife was pregnant." His voice had softened but it did have some malice to it.

"Antonin, I would have told you sooner." Adhara turned to Pierre, who looked a bit confused. "I just wanted us to be protected before…"

"Protected?" Antonin mumbled. "I'm the Lord of this House. I'm the one who will protect us."

"How can you when you're never here? Raising hell with the Dark Lord, that's why you do." Adhara spat.

With one flick of Antonin's wrist, he had knocked his brother out – to insure he would not intervene. He then advanced on Adhara, hand raised to strike her. In that moment, Adhara took in her husband's appearance. His skin was pale; his stubbly face had grown a dark beard for the coming winter months. His dark blue eyes were the colour of the English Channel. He was still gaunt, as if he didn't eat every day.

Adhara took a fearful step back before her head whipped to the side. The back of her husband's hand hit her square in the cheek. The flesh burned and she let out a gasp. Slowly she looked back at Antonin. Her brown eyes flared angrily. With enough force, Adhara slapped her husband in the face with her open palm.

Antonin looked surprised that his wife would hit him back. His lips slowly curved up in a dark smirk. Adhara suddenly found herself pinned to one of the walls of cellar.

Her husband grinned at her. "I knew there was a reason I wanted to marry you. Show me that passion again, witch."

* * *

><p><strong>A Pub, Somewhere in Wizarding Ireland, The Last Light Outpost<br>****Saturday 21 November 1998**

"Thanks for meeting me, Luna." Hermione looked at the young, blonde witch. She was glad that the girl had agreed to see her in private. She wondered what she had to say in order to leave the confinements of the underground city. "I was hoping I'd be able to talk to you before the snow gets even worse."

Luna shrugged nonchalantly. "No worries, Hermione. It's worth it." The girl paused. "Was there something urgent you wished to tell me?"

Hermione nodded vigorously. "Yes. We finally have Harry."

Luna's face brightened. "That's excellent, Hermione. I'll be sure to tell the others."

"I suppose," Hermione said distractedly. "Harry wasn't in the greatest form when he got to us."

The younger witch's gaze took in Hermione's appearance. "Well, what happened exactly?"

"He was wounded," Hermione looked down at her hands. She then lifted them to take a sip from her tankard of Butterbeer. Wiping the warm foam from her lips, she continued. "He was bloody, pus-filled, and all-around beaten. The Dark Lord hasn't been so kind to him."

"Can you protect him?" Luna asked with a serious tone.

It took a few moments for Hermione to answer. Could she? She never had to really protect anyone. Addie and Aunt Narcissa usually looked out for her – protected her from whatever mean monsters were out there. She licked her lips. Could she ultimately care for Harry the way he used to do for her while in school? Could their friendship be saved? She gave a tight nod – more to herself than to Luna. "Yes," she said out loud. "I can."

"Then there is no problem," Luna took this time to finish off her Butterbeer.

"I'm nervous about Harry," commented Hermione.

"What do you mean?" Luna asked after a long pause.

"He just doesn't seem the same," Hermione looked long and hard at her young friend. "After we bathed him and dressed him, he just sat there looking sullen."

Luna smiled. "He's been through a lot. Just give him some time."

Hermione gave a tight nod and dipped her pinky finger into the frothy drink. "That's not all."

Luna looked around before settling her gaze back upon Hermione.

"I don't know how to say this. I don't even know if I'm entirely okay with this either, Luna."

"Talking about it may help," Luna looked at Hermione inquisitively.

Hermione gave a long ragged sigh. She pulled her finger from the drink, sucked on it and then licked her lips nervously. "I'm starting to like this." Luna made a move to reply but Hermione kept talking. "This whole Dark Arts stuff is just so interesting. I've been spending a lot of time in my uncle's library and there are just so many books, Luna. You wouldn't believe it. Sometimes I sneak into my sister's old bedroom just to go through her _Moste Potente Potions _book. I just cannot stop reading it. I was never this obsessive with it when I was younger. But ever since she left," Hermione drew in a harsh breath. "I don't know how long I'll be able to last on this side of the fence, Luna."

Luna looked at Hermione with curious eyes. She gave a small smile. "Hermione, sometimes in order to survive one must accept their fate; that way it's in your control."

* * *

><p><strong>Malfoy Manor<br>****Sunday 22 November 1998**

"I'll do it," Hermione said after storming into her brother's room early in the morning. She hadn't showered or even thrown on her silk robe. Her light pink dressing gown was the only thing she wore.

Arcturus shielded his eyes as she opened the drapes in his room. He tried to bury himself into the pillows. "Hermione, it's too early to have this discussion."

Hermione huffed, turning to the bed and pulling back the sheets. "Get out of bed, brother. I said, I'll do it."

"Do what exactly?" Arcturus asked before readjusting his briefs so his sister didn't see anything …private.

"You've been harping on this all week. I think I've plucked up enough courage to say yes. I'll go to our ancestral home with you," Hermione said before tugging on his foot to get him up.

Instantly, Arcturus propped up on his elbows to look at her. "You're serious about this? You want to go to Lestrange Château?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, I just had a wake-up call. I might as well accept this," she made a flourish-like movement with her hand. "So, get up so we can go."

Arcturus bit his lip. "We can't go today. We'll have to wait. Adhara's coming with us."

"She is?" Hermione asked excitedly. "When?"

"She hasn't decided a date; I mean if she ever will. I seem to have gotten her in trouble with Antonin," Arcturus said.

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed. "How?"

"She's pregnant and apparently didn't tell her husband," Arcturus smirked before getting out of bed.

"She's what?" Hermione asked, flabbergasted.

"You didn't know?" Arcturus turned to look at his youngest sister. "She didn't write you."

Hermione shook her head no.

"Well, I guess she was keeping it a secret from everyone." Arcturus then turned to step into his pajama bottoms that were on the floor. "Her letter is on the desk. I'm surprised she didn't send me a Howler."

Arcturus watched as his sister dashed over to the desk and picked up a tan piece of parchment.

"_Arcturus, you horrid fool,_" Hermione read the note out loud. "_I can't believe you would just open your mouth to him like that. It took me forever to get Antonin to stop yelling and pressing me up against everything._" Hermione blanched.

"Yes, I know. It's bad enough that we know our parent's sex life; now we know our sister's as well." Arcturus mocked.

Yet Hermione continued, ignoring her brother. "_At least he's happy about the pregnancy. However, he does hover around often when I work on my potions – which is slightly annoying. He's told the Dark Lord so expect Mother and Father to know soon._" Hermione nearly cried at this. It just made it that more real. "_But don't fret, I agree with you. Visiting our old ancestral home would be, dare I say, nice. I haven't been there for so long. Do you think Hermione will remember it? She was so young when—_" Hermione turned to the other page. "_—Mum and Dad went to prison. I'm sad, Arcturus. I don't want our family living like this._" Hermione's tears fell. Her sister was still thinking about them. "_I should stop writing, I'm rambling now and I have potions to tend to. I'll see you and Hermione during the first week of December. I'll get a date from Antonin for when I can see you. Speak to you soon. Love, Addie._"

* * *

><p><strong>Malfoy Manor<br>****Sunday 22 November 1998**

Draco Malfoy did not understand why his family was so excited. When he walked into the dining hall, he was nearly taken aback on how cheerful it was. His aunt, Bellatrix, danced wildly around the room, while his uncle Rodolphus, Rabastan, and his father embraced – downing shots of Firewhiskey every now and again. Draco's mother looked happy for once in a long time. Her face was clean and fresh with no traces of tear tracks.

The only people in the room that looked unhappy were his cousins, Arcturus and Hermione. Arcturus looked like he had the last piece of pie stolen from him at Christmas. Hermione looked lost, as if her parents dumped her in a park and left. Yet Harry's expression was the most startling. He looked clean-shaven and his eyes were back to their bright green colour. His face looked a tad bit fuller and the black suit he wore illuminated how pale he really was. Harry's facial expression looked …interested. As if he liked hearing whatever had happened.

"What's going on?" Draco asked.

All eyes turned to him. Yet he stared at Hermione. Her face was sad.

"Adhara is with child, Draco. Isn't it wonderful?" His mother said from her seat. Her teeth glimmered as she smiled.

Draco's eyes grew wide; he could almost feel his pupils dilate. Was this real? Shouldn't Hermione be celebrating that her sister was pregnant? Shouldn't she be happy for her? Hermione's face looked glazed over.

"Hermione…" he mouthed but didn't vocalize.

She gave a small tentative smile. That's what he loved. Her smiles. Draco knew for some time now that he was infatuated with his cousin. In time, it grew to be love – more than platonic emotions. He wasn't afraid to admit that. He just didn't know how to explain it to her. He knew that she knew marriage to cousins was normal behavior for Purebloods; but did she accept it? Draco took a few steps closer, but stopped he felt Harry's gaze on him. By Harry's facial expression, Draco new the-Boy-Who-Lived understood what he was thinking.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>I've finally created the site for this fanfiction. I'll post it in the _links_ area in my profile. This is the address: wizardschess(dot)webs(com)  
>There you will find: a photos section of who plays who, locations, and other things. Terminology is located in the glossary tab. There's also information on the Pureblood houses; main, secondary, and minor characters; cast list and a page of how I developed the potion. As each chapter reveals a new ingredient, you will be able to see it there as well. Some pages are still in development but will be finished by the end of September 2011.<p>

Please review. I would love feedback.

-Rosie


	7. Time

Once Upon a Time

**Malfoy Manor  
><strong>**Monday 30 November 1998**

Harry Potter, the-Boy-Who-Lived, gazed out a front window of the Malfoy Manor. He sat in the third floor study. Rain pelted against the glass, it was harsh and steady. He placed his right hand against the cold window. Harry shivered. Closing his bright green eyes, he thought about the events that had transpired.

It had been months since the end of the War. Lord Voldemort had captured him – keeping him locked inside the Riddle House. He was confined to the basement, locked within cement walls. His food was delivered by Lord Voldemort twice daily and there was a small water-closet in one of the corners. The Dark Lord was the only contact he had had. And when they spoke it was usually in Parseltongue.

For the first two months of his capture, Harry had been tortured endlessly. Knives and Unforgivables had been the Dark Lord's only weapons. Voldemort had said it was a way for him to toughen up. Yet Harry knew it was for _his_ sick and twisted games.

But by the time his birthday rolled around on July 31st, Harry had come to enjoy the pain. Throwing himself to the feet of Tom Morvolo Riddle only excited the Dark wizard even more. In time, the Dark Lord allowed Harry to practice spells. He taught the boy many pieces of Dark Magic. In late August, Tom had given Harry a gift; a plump, purple man by the name of Vernon Dursley. Harry was shocked at the task given to him – murder his uncle.

Harry did not think twice. He just lifted the Elder Wand that he borrowed from the Dark Lord and flicked it. He didn't need to even mutter the evil words. It was just a thought in his mind. _Avada Kedavra. _

Soon after that, the Dark Lord had told him he'd be introduced to the Death Eaters and their families. When Harry asked which family, the Dark Lord just answered with: "You know who."

This left Harry confused but he questioned no further. It wasn't until much later that Nagini appeared to him in a dream explaining his task. He would be sent to the home of the Malfoy's. He would learn the ways of the Dark before moving forward as the Dark Lord's Right-Hand Man. This confused Harry even further.

Then Augustus Rookwood arrived at the Riddle House. Angered that the Dark Lord would leave a Death Eater to bring him to the destination, Harry attacked Rookwood. This earned him a severe beating from the pock-marked Death Eater. When he was brought to the Malfoy Manor he was tossed into the cellar. For a moment he thought it was a ploy; that perhaps this was just more humiliation until the Dark Lord executed him.

But then he heard the soft voice of Hermione Lestrange – his most beloved, his most loyal. Throughout the years, he knew Hermione would sacrifice anything for him. During first year, she abandoned her cousin to become friends with him. In their second year, Hermione had helped protect the Muggle-borns from petrification. In third year, she helped save his godfather and in fourth year, she was the only one loyal to him. Even though, Hermione had not attended Hogwarts for her fifth year, she had fought against her own mother for him in the Department of Mysteries. Harry had come to love Hermione.

Narcissa Malfoy had then cared for him when he arrived. He was shocked that Malfoy's mother could be this …motherly. Yet, Harry did not speak much. During their lessons of history and magic, he kept his mouth shut. Since he arrived in early November, he noticed that Hermione and Draco were not as well-versed in Dark Magic. They seemed hesitant to join. Harry swallowed thickly; that would soon have to change for what was planned.

As much as Harry wanted the rain to drown out any sort of noise, it didn't. He heard loud whispers outside the room.

"Please, he's in there," It was Hermione. "Just talk to him. See if it will work."

"I came to visit you both not him," A female voice said. It was soft and nurturing. "This isn't my duty. If He finds out I was the one talking to him like this…" The person huffed. "I have my own mission."

"I know but just please, you might be good for him," Hermione pleaded.

"A fresh face and all," Draco commented.

The other woman let out a drawn out sigh. "Fine."

The door to the study opened and then quietly shut behind the person.

"Harry," the woman said, once again with the softness she had used with Hermione.

The-Boy-Who-Lived said nothing and continued to gaze out the window.

"_Harry._" The woman said in Parseltongue.

Harry's green eyes widened and he nearly gave himself whiplash from turning his head too quick.

"_Harry, my name is Adhara. I'm Hermione's sister,_" she hissed.

"_I know who you are,_" Harry said darkly, hoping his tone would make her leave. Except she looked more relieved that he was speaking to her, regardless of what language. He noticed that she was a petite woman. She looked startlingly like Bellatrix, her mother. Except there was softness in her face that reminded him of Tonks' mum. If he remembered correctly Tonks would be Adhara's cousin, and they were the same age. Harry looked at Hermione's sister sharply. Her brown hair was pulled back into a low chignon and her brown eyes looked at him critically. There was a small bump to her belly. Perhaps she was pregnant.

"_You're safe here,_" Adhara paused, clearly thinking of what to say next. "_Whatever happened between the Dark Lord and you …we don't have to talk about it. But rest assured, no one will hurt you here._"

It was clear to Harry that the woman did not know what to say to him and probably felt awkward about it as well. "_Thank you for the concern. I'll be fine._" Harry turned to the window to look at the rain. Yet Adhara did not leave the room. He heard her move closer.

"_Would you like me to tell you a story?_" She asked. This was a very unusual question to ask but it made Harry look at her. "_My father used to read me a story before I went to sleep; that is until he went to prison._" Adhara shook her head trying to chase away the memories.

"_I suppose_," Harry hissed.

Clearing her throat, Adhara reverted to the English tongue. "There was once a handsome, rich, and talented young warlock, who observed that his friends grew foolish when they fell in love…"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> The story that Adhara tells to Harry is "The Warlock's Hairy Heart." This will have a huge part later on in the story. If you haven't read the story from The Tales of Beedle the BardI highly recommend it. However, if you haven't that's alright.

This chapter is very short. The next chapter will be short as well.

In this story I wanted to make parallels between Bellatrix/Voldemort to Hermione/Harry. There are a lot differences – for one, the love the friends have for each other is real, as opposed to Bellatrix/Voldemort's one-sided fanatical obsession.

Please review. I would love feedback.

-Rosie


	8. Discussions

Fearful Discussions

**The Underground City  
><strong>**Tuesday 1 December 1998**

"The bitch is pregnant!" Neville said angrily. Gasps were heard around the hall as many of the people clustered around the one rectangular table. Young adults and older members that were housed in the underground city held meetings twice a week in order to keep track of who was doing what. An emergency meeting was called after Nymphadora Tonks let it slip that her cousin was pregnant.

"Neville," Tonks glared at the younger man. "Don't talk like that. She didn't ask for this."

"You're only saying that," Neville paused, "Because she's your cousin."

"And you're only saying that because her parents tortured your parents," Tonks spat.

"Nymphadora!" Andromeda gasped from her spot at the table.

All the people at the table stayed quiet. They looked back and forth at each other, trying to decide whether it was a good time to even discuss this topic anymore. However, Neville broke the silence.

"As I was saying, Adhara Dolohov is pregnant. This is the moment we've been waiting for to attack. People will be preoccupied with her," Neville explained. After the war it seemed Neville Longbottom became the leader of Dumbledore's Army and the Order. This was something that shocked everyone – especially since they thought Ronald Weasley would be the one to lead.

"Well, then what should we do?" Angelina Johnson inquired.

Neville looked around the room before responding, "Hitting them where it hurts."

"You're talking about murdering a young mother and her baby!" Remus retaliated, something he rarely did. "You're mad, Neville."

Everyone started whispering amongst themselves. They were clearly not comfortable with the task.

"Why Hermione's sister?" Molly Weasley asked tentatively. "Why not some random Death Eater?"

"Yeah! From what you're saying Neville, we might as well just kill Hermione!" Ginny argued hotly.

"No! No, that's not what I'm saying." Neville countered. "Besides, Hermione's proved herself. She's been on our side since the beginning. Before any of us, in my opinion."

Remus scoffed and threw up his hands in exasperation.

"However, Adhara Lestrange takes after her mother. She'd curse us as soon as look at us," Neville said blatantly.

"Not true!" Tonks shouted as her hair grew two inches and turned the color of red wine.

Remus pulled on her sleeve to quiet her down.

"Just think about it, Tonks. She hasn't contacted you in a while," Neville started.

"She's busy!"

"Yes, she is! She's doing something dangerous. Anybody affiliated with Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov is dangerous." Neville looked pointedly at Molly, whose brothers had been murdered by Dolohov many years ago.

"Stop it, just stop, she's just a child, you cannot punish a child for its parents' actions or anyone else's actions." Arthur Weasley said, clearly frustrated with the way the meeting was going on.

"She takes after Narcissa," Andromeda said softly. Her frustration had ceased and made her drowsy. "That's a good thing. My younger sister did well raising her." She stood up slowly and then turned away. "Narcissa raised four children on her own; taught them the rules of life and how to survive. If anything, Arcturus is the one who mimics his biological parents." With that, Andromeda left the room and walked down the long passageway to her rooms.

The meeting hall went silent again.

"Who's Arcturus?" Katie Bell asked from her seat between Angelina and George.

"Their son; he's the spitting image of his father and almost twice as bad…" Arthur Weasley muttered under his breath.

"It's the eldest Lestrange sibling, the boy of the family," Ron clarified. "Hermione's told me loads about him," he chuckled darkly.

"Well, I can tell you even more with the information I was able to obtain," George said while waving a piece of parchment in the air.

"Are we going to kill her or not?" Neville asked with anger.

"Neville, you must understand this, we cannot kill her. That's Hermione's sister and she is still very close to her. It is not the girl's fault that she has been indoctrinated into the Dark Arts since a very early age." Remus explained as tenderly as he could.

"Not to mention it would be ridiculous," Arthur commented. "Not only would the Dark Lord come after us with full force, but her parents, siblings, the Malfoy family and her husband would come after us. We would lose Hermione as well."

"I believe you are clouded by hatred," Luna said smoothly. Her voice was very soft.

"I'm not clouded by anything!" Neville shouted before pushing back his chair roughly and storming from the room.

Everybody watched him leave. Shock was now becoming a normal emotion during this meeting. Without skipping a beat, Ginny spoke next, "What about our allies? Who do you think is willing to join our cause in the neighbouring nations?"

Tonks grimaced. "Not many, I'm afraid. The Death Eaters have really taken over most of Europe."

"Last I heard they're making their way into the Mediterranean countries soon," George commented.

Tonks nodded in confirmation. "But as far as people are concerned, I know we have Draco, Hermione, and my Aunt Narcissa on our side. And contrary to popular belief, I _do _believe Adhara will join us; especially if it's to protect her child."

"What about the newest Death Eaters?" Molly asked hesitantly.

George read off his parchment and then looked back up at the people at the table. "Malfoy's little friends are now officially Death Eaters. Theodore Nott's father is a Death Eater so this has been a longtime coming. Same goes for Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle."

"Their parents are Death Eaters too?" Luna questioned.

George nodded. "Blaise Zabini, Malfoy's supposed best friend, is just now joining the Death Eaters. He hasn't been given his task as yet; but I can tell it's going to be extravagant." George nodded.

"What about Parkinson?" Ginny asked.

"Pansy Parkinson as well as Millicent Bulstrode are not doing anything as of yet." He looked down at the paper to see what was written next to their names. "Actually, Bulstrode is being personally mentored by Alecto Carrow."

A bark of laughter fell from Ginny's lips. "Two cows grazing in the fields."

A few of the women giggled lightly. Luna however was not thrilled. "Is there anyone else?" Luna asked knowingly.

"The Greengrass sisters are not doing anything but cowering within their estate with their family." George answered.

"What about the Lestrange brother?" Luna asked.

"Arcturus?" George asked for clarification. Luna nodded. The living twin looked down at the parchment in his hands before looking up with a grimace on his face. "Arcturus Cygnus Lestrange has been dubbed the Inquisitor of the Dark Army and Regime. He is partial to the Cruciatus curse and preforms it exceptionally well on his victims when put to the question." George paused, biting his lower lip. "It seems that he takes after his parents."

Luna sat puzzled. "What about the other person? I heard a werewolf follows him around."

"Scabior Greyback?" Tonks and George asked.

"Scabior," Ron said as he gritted his teeth. "That's the prick that kidnapped Harry, Hermione, and I when we were looking for the Horcruxes."

"Ron! Stop that language," Molly gasped.

"Sorry, Mum," he said sheepishly. Then his dark glare returned. "He came on to Hermione."

"Came on to Hermione?" Remus repeated.

"Yes, as in groped her, touched her in inappropriate ways," Ron clarified.

"Scabior? As in…" Tonks searched for words.

"Fenrir Greyback's eldest son," Remus whispered to her.

"I know who that is," Tonks said. "I went to school with him. He was in Arcturus' year. Adhara had a crush on him during our years there."

"And he's apparently Arcturus' close accomplice. Arcturus' personal dog if you ask me," George said in slight disgust.

"Is he still _snatching_?" Luna asked.

"Unfortunately yes, but it's become very intense. They search everybody's house twice a month for muggle-borns. He's captain of that small unit. Yet he works hand-in-hand with Arcturus."

Everyone stayed silent once more. It was times like these where people missed the nativity of childhood.

"We should take back Ireland," Luna said simply. Everyone looked at the young girl. Her face was innocent and she looked to be in deep thought. "They shouldn't have everything. This will show them that we are still strong. That we can survive on our own, regardless of someone's heritage. It will show them that they cannot take over the muggle world. Because that's where they will hit next if we don't stop this now."

"I agree," Ron said quickly.

"We should raid Pureblood houses like they did to ours and set up more Light Outposts. We could expand the underground city, stretch it all the way across Ireland and then come up from the Earth and recapture what is ours," Ginny added.

More people started nodding.

"Okay, okay," Remus tried to calm down everyone. "How are we going to do this?"

Ron gulped, "_I'll_ lead an assault."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>This chapter is based off of the episode entitled The Wolf and the Lion of Game of Thrones. I thought I'd show what the other side is doing. Also, Ron's last line is a vague reference to the _Philosopher's Stone (Book 1)_ where he says he's the knight when they play live-action wizard's chess. This chapter is short, like the previous chapter. However, the next will be back to its usual length.

Please review. I would love feedback.

-Rosie


	9. Lost Childhood

Centuries of Lost Childhood

**Lestrange Château  
><strong>**Friday 4 December 1998**

Adhara turned on the spot and was greeted by her brother's annoyed expression. His face was ragged and his eyes clouded, as if distracted.

"Where have you been? You were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago?" Arcturus glared at her.

She rolled her eyes; mentally preparing for his impending outburst. "I had to talk to Antonin before I left," Her gaze shifted over to her sister who was looking over at the two teasingly. "Hermione," she walked past Arcturus to embrace the younger girl.

"Adhara," Hermione fell into her pregnant sister's affectionate hug. "I feel like it's been forever since I've seen you."

Adhara nestled her face into the crook of Hermione's jungle of curls. "I know. Antonin doesn't like me apparating while I'm pregnant at all. You have no idea how difficult it was for him to agree to this."

Hermione nodded knowingly.

"Hullo!" Arcturus waved a hand before speaking again. "I'm here too."

Adhara turned to face her brother once more and then pulled him into the hug as well. Quaint kisses on cheeks and tight hugs were shared at that point. It almost brought tears to her eyes.

Arcturus pulled away. "Where's that bloody snake you put in your Gorgon hair?"

The girls pulled away as well. Adhara rolled her eyes. "_Tanith_ is back at home lying on my egg, probably watching Pierre put the bassinet together." She looked at her little sister. "He refuses to let the house-elves do anything thanks to you."

Hermione stifled a laugh before turning towards the looming building behind them. Arcturus and Adhara turned to look as well. Adhara was momentarily taken aback. Vines climbed along the white stone of the château but were careful of the many windows. The vines wound their way around the dome-shaped, black rooftops. Adhara then turned to look around at the many gardens of the Lestrange Château. The grounds were immaculate and pristine. The hedges and grass had been freshly cut and the statues polished.

"Hey guys?" Adhara mumbled.

"Hmm?" They mumbled back.

"Don't you think it's a bit wonky that the gardens are clean? Much too clean?"

"Like it's been groomed?" Hermione asked.

"Uh-huh," Adhara nodded.

At that moment the dark wooden double doors opened. The creaking sound made it seem like the doors hadn't been open in nearly a decade and a half – which was probably correct.

Adhara took a step back as the other two took a step forward. A small figure slowly walked from the darkness of the house. There was a slow shuffle to the creature's steps. It stepped outside and the light shone down upon it. A small, thin house-elf with pale, gray skin shuffled out towards them. Hair grew from its ears in thick ropes that fell to his mid-waist; it showed its age.

"The Master and Mistresses has returned," it squeaked. The elf, who was most definitely male after realizing it was naked, beaconed them with his hand. "Please come into your home." He turned around to step back into the house.

The three siblings tentatively looked at each other before following him.

"Do you think Uncle Lucius left the house-elves here after taking us?" Arcturus asked.

"Of course he would," Hermione said in annoyance. "Why would he bring them or better yet, set them free?"

"Enough bickering," Adhara commented. The three stepped into the house and jumped suddenly when the doors slammed shut behind them. "We need to be able to think clearly. Father says to trust no one; we must be careful."

"Easier said than done," Arcturus stated blatantly.

The elf led them into the darkened parlour; in fact the whole house was dark. Adhara wondered how the elf knew they were there and how he could see. There was a small snap and the lights in the house turned on. Everything shone with clear crystal and black marble. Fresh milky white candles were lit in silver and black candelabras.

"My name's Temral; head house-elf of the Lestrange's estate. I were your grandfather Master Romain's youngest elf at the time, handed to Master Rodolphus when he was old enough."

"You're our father's house-elf?" Asked Arcturus, curiously.

The house-elf nodded. "I'll leave you to it. You must want to explore it."

Before any of them could reply back, Temral disappeared into thin air. The sisters slowly turned to look at each other in a bit of surprise. After a while of wandering around the inside of the home, the siblings found their way to their old bedrooms, preserved in the way they were before they had left. Hermione's in particular was strange; her crib made of dark oak still stood in the middle of the room. Seeing it made all three of them uncomfortable.

"You both head to the library," Arcturus said after they shut the door to the baby's room. "I'm going to find Father's study."

Adhara and Hermione nodded tightly before heading towards the library. They were led by another house-elf named Pippy.

"What do you think this is all about?" Adhara asked her sister as they headed off.

Hermione bit her lip before looking at her older sister. "I don't know exactly. I'm not sure what I make of all of this." She waved her hands at the walls around them. "I don't like this though."

Pippy opened the doors to the library and disappeared, leaving Hermione and Adhara to their own devices. Hermione stopped short when entering it. Adhara bumped into her.

"Addie?" Hermione whispered her sister's nickname. Her gaze was focused on the sight in front of her.

Adhara looked at what her sister was watching. Shelves upon shelves crowded the huge ballroom-sized room. The room had to be the size of the libraries in the Malfoy Manor and her husband's home – combined. Books dusty with age were squeezed into every crevice.

"Whoa," Adhara whispered out loud.

"My thoughts exactly," Hermione recovered.

The eldest witch's nose twitched. The old, musty smell of books laced throughout the air but there was another smell; darker than anything she had ever smelled before. She could feel it hang heavy in the air around them. Hermione was the first to move into the room, but she was stopped as Adhara's arm shot out and pulled her back towards her.

"This room isn't safe," Adhara said blatantly. "For you at least."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione looked bemused. Her brown curls frizzing around her head like their mother's did.

"Don't you feel that? It's dark magic," she whispered, walking back steadily.

"Well, of course there's dark magic in this room. This is Mum and Dad we're talking about here. We'd be kidding ourselves…"

Adhara cut her sister short with a sharp look. "I'm talking about the books. Can't you feel that?"

Adhara watched as Hermione closed her eyes tightly and inhaled deeply. Her nostrils flared and her lips parted as if to get in every piece of whatever was floating in the air. Hermione shuddered, leaning back against Adhara. Her hand reached back to grip her niece or nephew in her sister's belly. Her fingers dug into the fabric of Adhara's dress. Hermione's eyes fluttered open.

She gulped. "What is that?"

"Dark magic," Adhara said pointedly.

Adhara knew her sister's thirst for knowledge was deadly. She would touch ever book, regardless of what it was about. It was clear to the older witch that her sister had gotten this trait from her. The only person in their family who was this obsessed with reading was their Aunt Narcissa. She, herself, couldn't contain herself. They probably attained it from her. Regardless, Adhara knew that she'd have to pull back Hermione eventually. Despite the fact that the room probably contained ancient texts filled with Dark magic – that wouldn't stop Hermione _and_ Adhara if left unattended in this room.

Hermione moved away from Adhara. She walked back towards the door instead, desperate for some fresh air.

"Are you coming?" Hermione asked, her voice scratching and her throat thick with emotion.

Adhara turned her head to look at Hermione; she gave her sister a tight nod and then followed her out of the library and down the hall.

They walked around the halls in silence, absorbing what they had just felt.

Hermione broke the silence. "Why do you think Arcturus wanted us to come here?"

"Perhaps he has become desperate to feel like a child again," Adhara said sarcastically.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm being serious."

Adhara chuckled softly. "And so am I. You know how much he reminisces the olden days. He may be a sadistic oaf, but he's still our brother – through thick and thin."

"We're not a family anymore," Hermione said quietly after some time. "We're like strangers in that house, Addie." She grabbed her sister's hand like a child.

Adhara rubbed soothing circles around the young girl's hand with her thumb. "That's not true, Hermione. You have Aunt Cissy and Cousin Draco."

Hermione shrugged. "It's not the same. Everyone in the house is just in their own world… no one talks, except when it's yelling and such." The younger witch looked at the other. "All I'm saying is that it would be nice if you came over for Christmas." She smirked, "Even bring my in-laws."

Adhara rolled her eyes. She abruptly stopped walking when Hermione tugged on her hand. She looked straight up and saw Arcturus walking towards them. He looked …upset.

"It's a good thing we met up here. I was just in Father's study," Arcturus called before speeding up his furious walk. He then stopped next to them and slammed the door open to their left. He walked into the bedroom, his sisters following him. "Welcome to their room," Arcturus waved with one hand at the room.

Adhara looked at everything. The furniture in Bellatrix's and Rodolphus' room was made out of a dark wood with a tinge of deep red to it. Their large bed was an antique and obviously looked as if no one had used it in a while.

"Mother gave birth to all three of us in this bed," Adhara said as she stepped over and swept her hands across the silk bedding.

Hermione looked at her oddly and exchanged a curious glance with Arcturus. "Really?" Hermione asked, knowing full well that this had been so.

Adhara didn't pay attention. "I wish to give birth on this bed," she looked at Arcturus with a serious look. "It needs to be here." She looked up at the cathedral ceiling of the bedroom. A viper of a deep green colour was painted on the ceiling. It was coiled and looked as if it was about the strike. Every so often it moved – uncoiling and fixing its position. This was similar to how the wolf in her room was painted on the ceiling. Yet with that animal, it silently howled every so often or paced across the ceiling, as if begging to hunt.

"Are you sure? You don't want to give birth in your own bed?" Arcturus asked quizzically.

Adhara turned around to face her siblings. A grin was stretched across her face. "No it will be here."

Hermione seemed to have had enough of the distractions. Ignoring Adhara, she turned to Arcturus. "What's going on? Why did you want us here?"

Arcturus took a step closer to Hermione as Adhara sat on the bed, a hand resting on her swollen belly. "It's important that I speak to the two of you. As much as we argue, I care for you both. But I'm tried and weary of these games. We're getting nowhere." He was met with the confused faces of his sisters. He looked at Hermione. "You and Draco were given task upon task – all of which you have failed."

Hermione sputtered. "And how is that our fault?"

"Let me finish," Arcturus raised his hands to silence her. "I have a plan to get back in the good graces of…" Hermione opened her mouth to say something but again Arcturus raised his hands. "Be silent or I'll charm you quiet." He raised an eyebrow. "I don't know what you're planning, Addie, with those potions of yours." He ran a palm over his face and inhaled sharply. "I'm planning to revolt. I have a few followers and we are gaining more. I… we've been getting the short end of the stick for so long, along with those who I've gathered."

Adhara raised an eyebrow, while Hermione looked completely in shock.

"We can do this. We can get what rightly belongs to us," Arcturus pleaded.

"I don't like this idea," Adhara said simply. "I have a child to think about, Arcturus." She pursed her lips the way Aunt Narcissa did when she didn't like one of Uncle Lucius' brainless ideas.

Hermione clenched her fists before speaking. "I don't think you should do this." It seemed like she was trying to remain calm when she really wanted to shout and hit her big brother. "As much as I want to blast you with a hex right now, Arcturus, I worry about your mental health." After a pause, she launched verbally. "Are you crazy?"

"Are you done yet, 'Mione?" Arcturus asked, using her childhood nickname.

"Don't 'Mione me. I think you should just wait. I feel like something will happen to our situation soon that will be in our benefit," Hermione said with a quiet anger.

Adhara looked at her sister curiously,

"You _feel_ like something is going to happen for our benefit? You'd rather sit and twiddle your thumbs. Don't you understand, Hermione? The Dark Lord could execute our family at any given time and not even have to flick his wand."

Adhara shivered, she stood abruptly. "I've heard enough."

"No!" Arcturus shouted. "Stop pouring pumpkin juice in her bloody bottle, Adhara. She needs to know what is in store for all of us. She's not a child."

"Yes, she is. She shouldn't have had to do this in the first place. No child deserves to have to be forced in to a war," Adhara argued back.

"She's a Lestrange!" Arcturus countered angrily. "Or have _you_ forgotten your roots as well? It was our birthright to go into battle for our blood"

Adhara pointed viciously at Hermione, who looked afraid at the argument. "That girl right there is your youngest sister, she should be studying to become a Healer or an Ancient Ruins Translator in her last year instead of being withdrawn from school permanently." She walked over to Hermione and grabbed the young witch's hand. "The day you act like a responsible wizard is the day I allow you to talk about the blood flowing through our veins."

And with a flourish the two witches turned on the spot, leaving the wizard to stew in his own sour thoughts.

* * *

><p><strong>Malfoy Manor<br>****Saturday 12 December 1998**

"They've been talking about it again," Hermione said without enthusiasm. She flopped down in to the sofa across from Harry. Since he had arrived at the Malfoy Manor, he had taken a liking to sitting in the third floor study. Soon Hermione had started joining him. She would read while he gazed out the window. Today it was snowing heavily. White blurs passed by the window at a rapid pace due to the wind.

Harry looked away and at Hermione. She slouched against the sofa, her head flopped against the back of the couch.

Harry shook his head. "The marriage?" His voice was plain.

She nodded and huffed. "I don't understand why they just can't wait."

"Wait for what?"

Hermione paused. Wait for what? That was a good question. What exactly _was_ she waiting for? "I think that I didn't believe it was possible for us to lose."

It was Harry's turn to huff. "Hermione…"

"I know, I know. You don't want to talk about it."

"Exactly, I…"

"But _I_ want to." She locked eyes with Harry. "I know you've been through so much lately." She leaned over the coffee table to grab a book she left there. "But between everything with my parents, and brother and sister – I'm just not at a good place right now." She opened the book to a dog-eared page.

She didn't see Harry get out of his seat by the window. She didn't feel him sit next to her on the sofa. But she was aware when he pulled her to him. And she did cry.

* * *

><p><strong>Nott Estate<br>****Wednesday 16 December 1998**

Lights of bright green, red, and blue blasted across the land of Nott Estate. Snow had drenched and froze walkways that led to the front of the house and cobblestone pathways in the gardens. Although many people slipped and fell, spells propelled people on to the ice had unhealthy speeds. Blood marred the ground around Arcturus as he fired another spell at a group of eighteen year olds who clearly were trying to sack the Nott Estate.

"They're falling back, Lestrange." Arcturus heard Scabior's redheaded brother shout over the battle. The man ran over to Arcturus to help push back the teenagers. "Scabior says they've caught one of the ringleaders."

"_Bombarda!_" Arcturus casted. The group of teenagers flew backwards – some limbs flew in every direction. "Filthy traitors," Arcturus cursed under his breath. He straightened out his Death Eater uniform before looking around them. Most of the Light warriors were running into the forest behind the Estate – desperate to get out of there and apparated to their safe houses. "Where's Scabior?"

"On the other side of the estate," the redheaded werewolf said.

"Take a team and find out where those traitors are going," Arcturus ordered before he flourished into a body of smoke and apparated away – flying towards the other part of the estate. He materialized to the location to see Scabior and few other Snatchers circled around one figure. Pushing through the crowd he saw him: Ronald Weasley. A friend of his youngest sister. Yet he was most identifiable with his red hair.

"A Weasley," Arcturus mocked. "It seems that your kind is a dying breed." The men around him chuckled.

The young man looked like he had been bloodied up badly. One of his eyes was closed shut, his bottom lip was split open and a goose egg of a bruise had lit up half his head. The edges of his clothing were singed as was his hair.

"You're under arrest, Weasley," Arcturus stated simply. He motioned for two Snatchers to grab him. "You infiltrated the Greengrass Estate yesterday, but we got you before your _filth_ got any farther."

Ron struggled. "We're taking what's ours."

Arcturus' nostrils flared angrily. His right fist reeled back before crashing into the redhead's nose. The cartilage crunched underneath the force. "It's mine now."

* * *

><p><strong>Malfoy Manor<br>****Thursday 24 December 1998**

"I need to talk to you," Draco said after throwing open the door to Harry's room and shutting it quickly.

Harry, who was lounging on the bed wrapping a gift, looked up at the blond. He raised an eyebrow at the other boy's entrance and then returned to folding the wrapping paper. "About?"

Draco started pacing around the room. He repetitively pushed back his hair from falling in his eyes. "It's about Weasley."

Harry looked up, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and scrunching his face up in curiosity. "Ron? What about him?" He set aside the gift.

"You mustn't tell Hermione," Draco turned around to face Harry. "If you do…"

"Malfoy, just tell me. What happened?" Harry said with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Draco studied Harry for a moment. The boy had gained more weight in the recent weeks and seemed slightly more alive than what he was. Yet it seemed he had withdrawn permanently and was much more detached. Draco had to tell him though. Drawing out the conversation would only hurt more.

"He's been captured… by the Snatchers. It happened last week," Draco watched Harry's vacant expression, yet the green eyes had grown a tad bit bright with tears. "He's been arrested," Draco said, trying to provoke a response from the Gryffindor. "Don't you understand?"

"What was he doing?" Harry said quietly.

"He was leading a small group to create more Light Outposts," Draco muttered. "Except they were trying to take over Pureblood homes to do it."

Harry shook his head in distaste. "He should have known better." A frown appeared on Harry's face as he got off the bed and walked over to Draco. "Before we got separated at the Battle, I told him not to do anything stupid – to just keep his family safe." He threw up his hands in exasperation. "What does he do? Get himself arrested."

Draco stared at Harry.

"Where did you hear this from anyway?" Harry asked, running a hand through his messy hair.

Draco cleared his throat. "I heard my Uncle Rodolphus mention it to my Father in my Father's study."

Harry nodded his head. "It's probably true then. And I'm helpless to do anything about it. Why don't you want to…" But before Harry could finish his question, Draco reached out to grab him and pull the Gryffindor into a bruising kiss that was oddly innocent. Draco did not understand why he did it. When he pulled away, Harry looked at him with the same old vacant expression. Draco Malfoy did the only thing he could do; Draco Malfoy ran.

* * *

><p><strong>Malfoy Manor<br>****Friday 25 December 1998**

The journey to Malfoy Manor seemed long and drawn out but Adhara knew that it only lasted a few moments. Her husband, brother-in-law, and she travelled by floo-ing. Antonin deemed it the only safe mode of transportation while she was pregnant. They had arrived around noon to have luncheon with Adhara's family. Her cousin, siblings, and Harry had opened up the few extravagant presents that they had gotten already – including the ones that she had mailed to them.

The dining hall's table at the Manor was almost crowded, or perhaps it was her distended belly that made her feel cramped. Despite that, the conversation at the table was light-hearted. Harry had not really said anything but only glared at her mother occasionally. Her aunt kept smiling endlessly about Adhara's pregnancy and she could only smile back. Draco seemed to be refusing to look at Harry. Hermione, Arcturus, and Pierre laughed at jokes that Uncle Rabastan was making. Uncle Lucius, Antonin, and her father were conversing about old family traditions that they could recreate. Despite all the madness that the Dark Lord was creating, Adhara enjoyed that this family – for once – was getting along.

Adhara Dolohov continued to smile.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>I apologize for this chapter taking so long to come out. I've been super busy with my university and job, as well as some personal issues with the wonderful world of money. But as of right now, I'll be trying to get back on a schedule of writing and releasing chapters on time.

Please review. I would love feedback.

-Rosie


	10. The Engagement

The Engagement of Mister Nott and Mademoiselle Lestrange

**Malfoy Manor  
><strong>**Saturday 2 January 1999**

It was snowing, yet again. The huge, white flurries pelted towards the ground; the wind whipped them around in a circular motions. Narcissa Malfoy nervously played with a sleeve of her dress.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

Hermione Lestrange pulled her beloved aunt into a tight hug, burrowing into the older woman's neck. She used to do this often when she was a child. "It's not your fault, Aunt Cissy," the young witch sighed.

"I tried to protect your sister and I failed. And now I've failed you," Narcissa sobbed endlessly.

Hermione rubbed her aunt's back soothingly. "You did all you could. This is the will of the Dark Lord and my mother."

"Fuck the Dark Lord!" Narcissa spat angrily, tears streaming down her face. "And fuck Bellatrix." She pulled sharply out of Hermione's hug.

The bushy-haired witch looked at her elegant aunt with surprise. Never had she heard this delicate woman speak with such tone and with horrid words. Not to mention she just cursed the Dark Lord. When Narcissa turned around to face Hermione, the young niece could tell how they were related. The woman's straight hair was frizzing, resembling Bellatrix's when she occasionally tamed it. Her brown eyes were wide and startling; her lips red and full. "Don't give me that look, Aquila Hermione Lestrange."

"I wasn't…"

Narcissa waved her hand as if to silence Hermione. "I'm tired, Hermione. I'm tired of this never ending cycle – this torture upon our family. We've been cursed by the old gods. I can feel it." Narcissa began to pace nervously, wringing her hands to and fro. "We must leave. There has to be some way."

Hermione bit her lip. She had to confess. The strain from keeping things from Narcissa Malfoy was too great.

"Draco and I want to join the other side… permanently. We want to take Harry and go. We want to take you with us." Hermione started noticing the frown upon Narcissa's face appear. "We could leave the country. We could go to America or Canada!" She whimpered desperately.

"And what of your sister?" Narcissa questioned. "If we betray the Dark Lord so blatantly, he would not hesitate to torture her to get back at us. And let me tell you, he would not wait until she delivers that child."

The door to small study opened roughly and Bellatrix walked in. "Are you ready?" She smiled widely as she looked at Hermione. "You look beautiful, Hermione. That dress suits you."

Hermione looked down at the baby blue, slate gown she wore. She gritted her teeth. This was not what she wanted but Uncle Rabastan picked it out for her; she was obligated to wear it.

"Not too dark, not too light and it matches your complexion. I'm sure he'll love it," Bellatrix spewed out while she circled Hermione like a shark. "Narcissa don't you think…" Her mother stopped speaking as the older witch locked eyes with Narcissa. "Cissy? What's wrong?"

Narcissa hastily wiped her face on her sleeve like a child. "Nothing," she said after clearing her throat. "She just looks beautiful."

Hermione turned away from the both of them to roll her eyes dramatically. A few minutes ago her aunt was just cursing out her mother. "Can we get this over with, please?" Hermione groaned.

Bellatrix clapped her hands excitedly before hopping on one foot with glee. "Well, the boy is here!" Bellatrix grabbed Hermione's shoulders. "Do not mess this up, Aquila." She then whispered the last bit in her ear. "If you do, there will be _consequences_."

The girl pulled back from her mother, looking startled. She gulped, pulling herself together. "Where is he?"

"The back parlour."

Hermione nodded and walked out of the study towards the back part of the manor. A house-elf opened a door, letting her slip into the room unnoticed.

Once more Hermione gulped. A slim figure stood in front of the fireplace, a brandy glass in his right hand. He wore a black suit, similar to what Draco wore all the time. For a moment she thought it was Draco but then the figure turned towards her.

A slow smirk graced his features as he looked at her. He had a strong nose, a petite wide mouth and brown silky-looking curls. _Theodore Nott_.

"Well, if it isn't the Gryffindor Princess," Theodore grinned. "I never thought I'd be engaged to you."

* * *

><p><strong>The Forest of Dean<br>****Sunday 3 January 1999**

"Don't you all have some kind of heating charm system?" Arcturus complained as he sat in a wooden chair in the main cabin of the werewolf territory.

"We're werewolves, Arcturus. Our body temperatures are higher than that of a human," Scabior explained to his friend.

Arcturus gave a sarcastic face before rubbing his arms harshly. "Sweet Merlin."

"We also use a warming charm on our bodies as well," Scabior grinned.

"Of course," Arcturus glared at Scabior, before waving his wand to perform the warming charm. "Now where were we?"

"The part of how we're going to take Him down."

"Ah yes. The assault will be brutal. I know that a lot of His core followers will try to protect Him; but during the full moon, spells won't work on you and your men," Arcturus explained.

"You just want us to kill everyone involved? What about your mother and father?" Scabior looked shocked at what Arcturus was proposing.

"Try not to touch my family. But attack any others who try to protect Him. Rip His throat out; as long as He's dead. Do you understand?" Arcturus drew closer to Scabior.

"I'll let my father know about what will happen. I'm sure He'll be happy to join – fresh meat and all." Scabior paused. "But I do have one condition."

"Name it, Scab," Arcturus nodded.

"I want Adhara. I want her husband dead during the assault," Scabior said flatly.

Arcturus' face dropped. Adhara was supposed to be his at the end. Yet he could understand why Scabior would want her; they had history. "What of the child?"

Scabior smirked. "I'll keep it. Anything that comes from her is mine."

* * *

><p><strong>Malfoy Manor<br>****Monday 11 January 1999**

Draco purposefully walked slowly to the next meeting he had with Harry. They were to train and it was something he was dreading. He hadn't been alone with the dark haired boy since Christmas Eve; every other time they had been around one of his family members, mainly Hermione. But now it was just him and Harry Potter.

Hermione had spoken to Draco hours before claiming that her menstrual cycle was at its worse and that she didn't feel well enough to practice dueling. So he agreed to let her rest and then hurried to write to Adhara about brewing some willow bark milk potion designed to easy cramps and blood flow. She had instantaneously sent him back a note stating that she would brew it and it would be sent by nightfall.

He knew he had been stalling. He would have rather owl'd Adhara all day rather than practice with Harry alone. In all honesty, he would have rather rubbed Hermione's abdomen and feet rather than practice with Harry alone. But alas, if it was one thing his father taught him, it was to never back down from a duel. But then again, Lucius Malfoy never kissed a fellow member of the same sex.

Draco chuckled momentarily at the thought of his father smooching with another man. Then realization poured over him and he nearly gagged. No, that image would not do at all.

Instead Draco slowly walked to the cellar, determined to just get through the hour of play-fighting until his aunt came to check on them – which would promptly follow by her cackling to no end about Harry Potter joining the Dark side. It didn't take long until he reached the cellar stairs, opened the barred doors and continued down to the clammy depths.

There was a glowing in the back of the cellar which gave Draco reason to believe that Harry was on the other side of the cellar.

"Potter," Draco called.

The answer was a short grunt followed by Harry revealing himself from behind a pillar. "What took you so long? Usually you are the first one here."

Draco cleared his throat. "I had to owl my cousin."

Harry nodded in some kind of quiet understanding before pulling his wand out from its holster around his waist. It was a beautiful dragonhide holster with Celtic designs pressed into the hide. It was a deep brown which contrasted with Harry's neatly pressed black trousers. Hermione had given it to Harry as a Christmas present.

Draco gulped as he noticed in what zone he was staring Harry in. His head snapped back up to look at the other boy in the face. A blush heated his cheeks as he noticed Harry's lips turned up in a small grin. "Anyways, why don't we get this over with?" He pulled out his own.

"So we aren't going to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" Draco turned away to slip on a glove on to his right hand.

"About what happened a few weeks ago. Or have you forgotten that quickly?" Harry raised an eyebrow; green eyes glowing.

"Potter, can we just get practice over with?"

"And I thought you had a bit more bravery than this, Malfoy," Harry said dryly. "Oh, I forgot, you couldn't even kill Dumbledore in the first place. Snape was going to do it anyways."

Draco had had enough of Harry's mocking tone. He had tried to keep his wits about him but bringing up old wounds was something that he couldn't tolerate anymore. Draco threw down his wand and launched himself at Harry, throwing them both into the wall. He tried to wrestle the other down but somehow Harry had gotten the upper hand – positioning himself above Draco in a matter of moments. Yet Draco struck Harry's ear with an open palm, enough to stun but not cause bleeding. This helped Draco roll out from underneath the boy and grab him in a headlock. "I didn't mean to kiss you, Potter. It was an accident," Draco gritted out trying to get the other to stop clawing at his arms.

Yet Harry once again got the upper hand. He gripped Draco's arm and then flipped Draco over. The blond's eyes tightened as pain laced through his spine. "Was it really? Just the heat of the moment, huh Malfoy?" Harry placed his hand around Draco's throat and then straddled the pale boy's waist. Draco tried to buck Harry off but to avail. "Malfoy stop moving. We need to talk."

"I thought we were," Draco winced out – his breathing tight.

"Stop struggling," Harry said as he dropped his weight upon the boy. He pinned the boy's arms above his head. "This is serious, Draco."

The sudden usage of his name caused Draco to stop his writhing. "What?" He said angrily. "What is left to discuss?"

"I have a proposition," Harry whispered.

Draco narrowed his eyes furiously. "What could you possibly propose to me?"

Harry smirked. "You want to get your mother and Hermione out of here, right?"

Draco tried to pull back as far as he could – which wasn't far. "What of it?"

"What if I said you didn't have to leave? That all you had to do was just watch." Harry said cryptically.

"Just watch?" Draco asked, bemused.

"I need a spy, Draco. Someone in the outside who has access to all," Harry muttered.

"I knew you weren't that far gone." Draco rolled his head in defeat. "I told Hermione it wouldn't be long 'til you were back to your old bold, rude self again." Draco commented. "Why does it have to be me?"

"This is too dangerous for Hermione and besides her, you are the only one I trust," Harry sat up, giving Draco ample room to breathe.

"Oh really!" Draco scoffed, pushing Harry off of him the rest of the way. "So you just want me to do what waltz around the Ministry asking questions?"

"No, I want you to relay everything that happens around you. Where your father goes? If you ever see Nagini around? When Adhara Dolohov comes over to see her mother? I want to know everything that happens in this house."

"What for?" Draco asked, clearly confused with what the Gryffindor was asking.

"I'm taking over."

There was a long, pregnant pause as Draco felt his world crash around him. "What?"

Harry's palm flew over Draco's mouth to silence anymore outbursts. "I'm bringing the Dark Lord down from the inside out and you're helping me. The snake has got to go. I need a moment where I can spring on it. Once it is dead, we can take Him out. I need to make sure that none of the other Death Eaters are around otherwise they'll take my head." He removed his hand from Draco's mouth.

"Harry, this is suicide."

"And that's why I need Adhara?"

"What? Do you _even_ know her?"

Harry shrugged. "She comes to read to me sometimes."

Draco laughed manically. "Excuse me! Oh well that's rich, Adhara comes to visit you to tell you lullabies."

"It was only twice, but nevertheless, her child needs to be born. It won't be born if you, your mother, and Hermione escape."

"Why does everyone keep telling us that?" Draco asked more to himself then to Harry.

"Because it's true. He'll kill her and the baby if you escape."

"He won't jeopardize the possibility of having an heir."

"He doesn't know any better. There are some things on this planet that Tom Riddle knows nothing about, nor does he understand."

Draco buried his head in his hands. He shivered, inhaling and exhaling deeply. "Alright, I'll do it."

* * *

><p><strong>Lestrange Château<br>****Wednesday 20 January 1999**

Adhara launched herself in to the arms of her cousin, Nymphadora, as the young woman walked through the kitchen doors of Adhara's ancestral home.

"Oh Dora!" Adhara squealed excited. "It's been months!"

Tonks, who was momentarily stunned at her pregnant cousin pressing up against her, ended up being smothered in the embrace.

"Addie! Please! I believe you're suffocating me," Tonks choked out.

Adhara pulled back, her arms still flung around Tonks' neck. "I'm sorry," she said as she pressed a kiss to the other girl's cheek. Pulling away completely, Adhara asked. "How are you, cousin?"

Tonks smiled back – her hair a ruby red shade and her eyes the colour of turquoise. "I'm good; well as good as anyone can be in a time like this."

That's when Tonks looked around the small room. Two tea cups sat at the small table with a teapot and a bowl of sugar in between them. "Can I ask you something?"

Adhara nodded before pulling Tonks towards the table to take their seats. Adhara picked up the teapot and poured the warm milky liquid into the cups.

"Why did you ask to meet here? At your father's home? Isn't this a bit dangerous? Mum nearly had a fit about me coming here." Tonks explained.

Adhara then put six sugar cubes in to their tea, knowing full well that both her cousin and she had a sweet tooth. "Well, I contemplated about where we should have gone. Public was out of the question. And Antonin would never let me go off by myself to the countryside. Not only would it be suspicious but with all these raids recently," she shook her head. "Let's see he would not be happy."

"How is it – being married to him?" Tonks asked blatantly, lifting a purple eyebrow that contrast vividly with her red hair.

Adhara shrugged, sipping on her tea. Placing the cup back down, she bit her lip. "I suppose it is well. I mean, he treats me with respect …most of the time. We argue but not frequently. He does watch me a lot."

Tonks stirred her tea and looked at it intently. "And you are sure that there won't be an ambush?"

"The only person who would check on this house is Arcturus and I doubt he would. He's at work torturing innocent muggle-borns," Adhara said, shivering with disgust.

"How are we related again?" Tonks pondered.

Adhara stifled a chuckle. "I think he's going crazy. He wants to overthrow the Dark Lord to rule for himself."

Tonks turquoise eyes widened considerably. "What?"

"That's what I said!"

"He _has_ lost it," Tonks muttered.

"But that's not why I wanted to meet you. As much I've missed your smiling face, I have a request. I know it is a lot to ask, especially under these circumstances. However, I need your word on this," Adhara said slowly.

Tonks hands reached out to hold Adhara's. "Anything Addie."

"This war is getting viscous, I have a lot at stake. Especially with this pregnancy. But if I don't make it through this Regime I need to know that my children are safe," Adhara paused.

"Children?" Tonks asked in bewilderment.

Adhara nodded. "Will you be the godmother?"

Tonks smiled, got up from her chair and then hurriedly gave Adhara a hug – one equal to the strength that was given when they had greeted. "Yes, Addie, of course I will."

Adhara smiled back and pulled back from Tonks. "Thank you."

"But, I only have one," Tonks muttered while pulling a small piece of fabric from her coat pocket. She placed it on the table. It was a dark purple and made out of thick yarn. "_Engorgio_." The fabric grew in size, revealing what it was. A soft baby sling made out of the thickest and strongest yarn.

Adhara reached for it, gripping it to her chest. "Oh, Dora it's lovely." She smoothed the fabric across her cheek.

"Yes, but I only have one to give you. Molly Weasley made two for me when Teddy was born. He likes the dark red one so I keep him in that," she sighed. "You should have told me that you were having twins."

Adhara bit her lip.

"Adhara," Tonks groaned. "Cousin, please tell me you told someone that you were having twins."

"Not exactly," the pregnant witch admitted. "Technically…"

Tonks sat back in her chair and tossed her head back. "Oh, Addie. You're a mess." She mocked, "_Technically_? Technically? Technically, what Adhara? The fact that you keep keeping secrets to yourself? Tell me, does Bellatrix even know that you're pregnant." The sarcasm was thick.

"Of course she does," Adhara scoffed. "I just need to know that you'll be there, for them?"

"Yes," Tonks said softly. "But…"

"Listen when the time comes, I'll explain all. Until then, you'll just have to bear with me. I'll call upon you for the second child's birth."

Tonks narrowed her eyes. "What does that _even_ mean?"

"It means that this child isn't technically coming from my womb."

* * *

><p><strong>Malfoy Manor<br>****Friday 29 January 1999**

Aquila Hermione Lestrange had never felt this angry before. Never in her life had she felt her frizzy curls crackle with fury. Her soft brown eyes looked like liquid fire and her upper lip was pulled back in a feral growl that she did not know she was capable of making. Hermione was furious. Her blood felt like it was boiling. In a situation like this she should have been sad, crying, or fearful. But no, Hermione was ready to kill.

Her father had scheduled her in for a dinner with Theodore Nott, Harry, and Draco. The purpose was for her and Theodore to get better acquainted. Instead it ended up as a political debate between Theodore and Draco about why the giants were not useful at all; Harry watched on in amused interest. Hermione had been bored out of her mind. That was until Theodore mentioned the impending execution of Ronald Weasley. It had turned out that Harry and Draco had been keeping that bit of information from her.

Yet the three boys' facial expressions explained not nearly enough for her. Draco looked extremely remorseful, while Theodore looked amused and thrilled by the prospect of seeing Hermione so worked up. Harry on the other hand, had his eyes rooted to his bowl of creamy soup.

"You two knew about this?" Hermione screeched like a banshee. She glared at her cousin. "And you refused to tell me?"

Harry gave a curt nod.

"I wanted to tell you but I didn't want you to be worried," Draco spoke fast.

"I can't believe you both." Hermione turned on Theodore. "And you're sure, Nott? Are you absolutely sure?"

"The bloody ginger tried to turn my home upside down with his stupid cause," Theodore confessed before taking a swig of his wine. Now that the heat was directed on him, he didn't want the witch to end up hexing him.

"How dare the three of you act as if everything is fine and dandy, when one of my best friends in the whole world is supposed to be executed? You three make me sick!" Hermione cried, angrily. She then pushed her chair back and stood up – causing it to flip backwards. She turned towards the door to leave the dining room.

"Where are you going?' Draco called out to her.

"I'm going to find my bastard of a brother to see if I can get Ronald's life spared," she yelled as she stomped out of the room; slamming the doors shut behind her.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>Once again, I apologize for the delay. It's the middle of the semester and I have a lot due, not to mention my job takes a lot of writing. But I've finished this chapter and I'm halfway done with the next. Expect that soon. Also, check the story's website for updates in the gallery, glossary, cast list, and potions tab. The link can be found in my profile. The secondary characters tab will be updated soon as well.

Please review. I would love feedback.

-Rosie


	11. To An End

Good Things Come to an End

**Ministry of Magic  
><strong>**Sunday 14 February 1999**

Arcturus pulled the door open to room A3. The infamous room he used to interrogate his victims smelled like fecal matter and fear. He found himself inhaling deeply. That was until he noticed the lone figure chained to the floor. Unlike other interrogations, the criminal was not suspended from the ceiling there was no furniture. He had promised to owl Scabior when he was going to interrogate the Undesirable, yet he decided he had to do this himself.

"Ahhh, at last Arcturus Lestrange has decided to grace me with his presence. I've been waiting since December to see if…."

"Shut up, Weasley. I've heard you've been quite talkative," Arcturus said coldly. His eyes were narrowed to slits.

Ronald Weasley chuckled darkly. "Well isn't that what you want? Don't you want me to tell you all my secrets?"

Arcturus returned the chuckle. "You like pretending you're smart do you?"

"That's something I learned from Hermione," Ron said.

"_Crucio_!" Arcturus shouted. Ronald screamed and writhed against the chains keeping him rooted to the floor. The force of the curse took him from kneeling and bent him backwards. "How dare you assume you know my Hermione!" Arcturus yelled, circling the screaming young man. "You blood traitor filth. You're worse than those muggles and mudbloods you surround yourself with!"

When the curse was lifted, Ron tried to roll over to spit a gob of blood on the cold floor. "I know her more than you ever will. I was more of a brother to her than you'd ever be in the whole universe," Ron laughed. His lunacy taking over as an after effect of the torture curse.

Arcturus shoved his wand into his holster before rushing over to Ron and throwing a punch at the redhead. "Don't you ever say that," Arcturus paused from his speech to grip Ron's hair and rip chucks out. Using a free hand, Arcturus grabbed a knife from another holster and pressed it to the boy's scalp.

Ron screamed. He felt the blade tearing at the flesh atop his head. "She hates your guts, Lestrange."

That statement resulted in a part of his scalp landing on the floor. Arcturus then gripped some more of Ron's hair and began sawing it off with the knife. "That ginger hair has to go. I despise seeing your family's red hair everywhere." Copious amounts of blood dripped to the floor. Some of it pressed into Arcturus' hands and Ron's cheeks. "You idiot of a boy!" Taking the knife, he moved to stab the palm of Ron's hand.

A shriek flew from Ron's mouth; it sounded as if a mermaid had her tail chopped off. Arcturus saw the colour drain from Ron's face as sick realization occurred to Ron. He was going to die.

Arcturus smirked and withdrew the knife. No, Ronald Weasley would not die …for now at least. Arcturus got up off the writhing boy. Grabbing his wand, he muttered the torture curse. Ron's body curled into a fetal position before twitching relentlessly. And that's when Arcturus started kicking the poor sod's face.

* * *

><p><strong>Knockturn Alley<br>****Thursday 18 February 1999**

It had taken days for Hermione to come around to Harry and even more for her to be comfortable with Draco. This angered him deeply. His heart was green with envy and he didn't know exactly why he felt this territorial. It wasn't until he realized that he was completely in love with Hermione and Harry that he deemed it too late for anything to happen between the three of them. Hermione was destined to marry Theodore and Draco was Harry's spy until who knew when. The only thing Draco could do was buy them more time. Time enough for Draco to get enough information for Harry and enough time to get his mother, Hermione, and Adhara out of harm's way.

Yet by the time Hermione came around completely, she requested that the three of them go to Knockturn Alley. Draco wasn't completely sure why; she never like to visit there before. She opted to stay in the nicely lit district of Diagon.

Draco, Hermione, and Harry walked silently down the narrow streets until Hermione halted in her tracks. They stopped in front of Borgin and Burkes.

"Why are we here, Hermione?" Harry groaned. "You know I hate this place."

"I hate it more," Draco gritted his teeth.

Hermione huffed. "Honestly, if you don't want to come in with me, why don't the two of you stay here?" With that, Hermione went inside, ignoring their silent pleas.

Draco looked at Harry who looked back at him. "Do we have to?" Harry asked, not wanting to step foot in the Dark Arts store.

"I suppose we should," Draco answered. He looked around at the hags hanging around doorways as well as the Dark wizards who looked at them with blackened grins. "Plus, I think it's better inside than outside."

Harry nodded before following Draco into the shop.

Like every time Draco walked into Borgin and Burkes, the shop was darkened with archaic, evil looking things hovering all over. A new Hand of Glory sat on the mantle of the fireplace. He shivered. But as quick as that feeling fluttered through him, another emotion washed over him. Horrible anger.

He was vaguely aware that he could feel Harry's emotions as well.

There in front of him was Augustus Rookwood whispering something to Hermione. Hermione looked disgusted. Her head was pulled back trying to get away from Rookwood's hand that gripped a handful of her curly locks. The older wizard had backed her up against a bookshelf – the bookshelf that she was obviously looking at when Rookwood had caught her.

A boiling rush of blood rang in his ears as he looked on at the scene. He moved to advance forward, ready to whip out his wand and blast Rookwood out of the shop. Harry's hand shot out to grab Draco's arm. "Don't do anything rash," Harry muttered under his breath.

Draco looked wildly at Harry as if he had lost his mind.

"Think of this as your first task. Get rid of him. Make it clean," Harry nodded before moving forward. "Rookwood," Harry called.

The pock-marked man looked over at the two younger men. "Well if it isn't Potter and Malfoy. I would have never of thought I would have seen you two side-by-side."

Draco bristled, ready to curse the man in front of them. "Let go of her."

Rookwood smirked before pulling Hermione closer to him. Pressing his nose against Hermione's hairline, he inhaled. "She smells like wildflowers and vanilla today, boys." He chuckled. "I was just telling lovely Aquila that she shouldn't marry Nott Jr. She should have a more …experienced wizard in her bed."

Draco whipped out the wand in his holster and pointed it at Rookwood. The older wizard pushed Hermione into the shelf before grabbing his own wand.

"Hey! What's going on out here?" Mr. Borgin shouted. The stoutly, ugly wizard showed himself from the backroom. His wand was raised intimidatingly. "Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Rookwood: get out of my shop if the two of you can't play nice, you here?"

Draco nodded while Rookwood ignored the other wizard.

"Would you like to take this outside, Mr. Malfoy?" Rookwood mocked.

"Gladly," the boy gritted out.

Rookwood led the way after Draco refused to make the first move.

"Draco!" Hermione called out. "Harry, do something!"

"Hermione let's just finish up here. Did you find the book you wanted?" Harry's voice trailed off.

Draco followed the Death Eater out of the shop and then down a side alley.

"Malfoy…" Rookwood growled.

But before he could say anything more, a flash of green light glazed over his eyes in an instance.

That was Draco Malfoy's first kill, ordered by Harry Potter.

* * *

><p><strong>The Forest of Dean<br>****Friday 19 February 1999**

The smell of forest greenery swirled in the air. The gargantuan canopy above tangled and gnarled, blocking much of the bright sun. Patches of snow melted on the frozen ground and looked slightly pretty. Frost littered the forest floor. A large spot of blood was smeared on some snow a couple of steps away from Adhara. Her heart thumped wildly within her chest. It was clear to her that she was officially on werewolf territory. The wet dog smell confirmed her thoughts.

Keeping her eyes focused on the spot of blood, Adhara slowly moved away from it. There was a rustling behind some bushes that startled her and her focus was turned on the shrubbery.

"_Are you sure this is the right choice_?" Tanith asked from her perch upon Adhara's head. "_Is there no one else you can ask_?"

"_No. I've told you before. It needs the strength and magic that the werewolves possess._" Adhara muttered and hoisted her handbag on her shoulder.

She felt eyes on her back but when she turned around she saw nothing.

"_I can feel them. They're watching us._" Tanith whispered in the witch's ear.

She gave a short nod and dropped her bag and then protectively placed her right hand on her belly. Adhara had left her wand in the holster in the inner lining of her heavy cloak. She did not want to appear threatening, but she also did not want to be left unprotected. She had snuck out of her husband's home while he attended an inner circle meeting; Pierre had gone with him. But she had chosen that moment to apparate and visit the werewolves to get the ingredient for the potion that was needed to help hatch her egg. It was something that was necessary that she learned from her reading material and textbooks.

"What are you doing here, witch?"

Adhara turned around to see a tall, lanky, young man with red hair and a grin on his face. He looked vaguely familiar. His eyes roved over her frame, widening as he took in her distended belly. Another slow smile drew itself on his face.

"You must be Adhara." The man stated plainly. "You've been the topic at the dinner table for quite a while now."

"Who are you?" She felt Tanith move against her scalp.

"Josef Greyback, second bastard born to Fenrir. Or so we think," he gave a little chuckle and bowed.

"You're Scabior's brother?" Adhara looked at him, slightly bemused.

Once more he chuckled before taking a step towards her. "We share the same father, yes. You seem to be very acquainted with my eldest brother."

"We went to Hogwarts together. He was in my brother's year," Adhara said quietly, not wanting to delve into her past with Scabior.

"Did you know that I was in the year above you? In the same House?" Josef took two steps closer.

Adhara picked up her handbag and pulled it on to her shoulder. She finally took a step back. "I didn't notice. I stuck to my books."

Josef gave a smile. "I'm sure you did." He then placed his hands in the pocket of his leather coat. "Why are you here? To see him?"

She cleared her throat. "I wanted to speak to your father first."

"He's away at the moment; Mudblood Snatching. You know how that is?" Josef started to circle around her.

"I wouldn't; I'm not a Snatcher, nor am I a Death Eater," she answered sarcastically. "Listen, I don't have all day to discuss what I need with _you_. If your father isn't here, I request that I speak with Scabior."

Josef nodded and then walked away. "Follow me; I'll take you to him."

Adhara sighed and started after him.

"_I don't trust him_." Tanith hissed.

Adhara ignored her and kept quiet. The ten-minute walk was held in silence but Adhara felt eyes gazing at her from behind trees and shrubs. A dirt path started at the outskirts of the small village. She momentarily stopped, taking in her surroundings. The village contained at least ten small cabins with a large one at the centre of the village.

"He's probably in his room. It's the third cabin on the right. Knock before entering." He paused for effect. "Otherwise he might bit your head off."

Adhara gave a tight nod as Josef walked away down the path towards the main cabin. Awkwardly, Adhara stood in front of the door. She could hear Tanith hissing relentlessly but she chose not to listen to the snake's whispering. Her heart thudded in her chest. Her brow had sweatened and she could feel others looking at her in a peculiar way.

Nervously, Adhara brought her fist up and tapped it against the door. She was met with silence.

"_Let's just go,"_ Tanith whispered. "_I don't like this place_."

Yet Adhara ignored the horned viper. She was determined not to get side-tracked. Again Adhara knocked on the wooden cabin door. She heard a shuffling going on within the cabin.

"The door's open," Scabior called from inside the house.

Adhara tentatively opened the door and shuffled inside. The cabin was bright and warm. The sun streamed in through the windows and there was obviously a warming charm placed upon the cabin. She saw Scabior sitting on a couch pulling back his hair into a low ponytail. He looked disheveled, like he had just gotten up from a nap. Adhara looked around nervously.

When he looked up at her, she saw him freeze. It was clear that he hadn't expected her to show up here – especially in his private cabin.

His face darkened and he stood up angrily. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"I needed to see your father. Josef said he wasn't around," Adhara scooted away from him. "He told me you were here."

Scabior raised an eyebrow. "What did you need with my father?"

"An ingredient," Adhara paused. She looked down at her belly like a child that had done something wrong. "I need your permission to use and obtain it."

Scabior looked at her quizzically. "What is it? Can't you get it from Knockturn?"

Adhara had feared this moment since January when she knew that she'd have to obtain this piece of ingredient for her potion. It wasn't as if she could buy this anywhere. When she had mentioned it to Nymphadora, the witch had nearly lost it with surprise. She definitely couldn't get it from her husband; he'd think she was crazy for adding that to a cauldron. And as the potion required: it needed the power of a werewolf. This was all to make the egg hatch. At times she thought this tedious process was for nothing.

It was now or never.

"_Don't tell him anything_," Tanith hissed in her ear once more but Adhara merely batted the snake's head away from her ear.

"I need your blood and your seed."

The cabin went silent. It even seemed that the birds outside stopped chirping. Time had stood still for a few moments and then the blood came rushing back into her face as she blushed a furious crimson. But that did nothing to deter Scabior's reaction. His face drew pale and he flopped back on to the couch in a moment of shock. Adhara could literally see the wheels turning in Scabior's head.

"Scabior, say something," Adhara whimpered.

The werewolf' gaze locked on hers and he looked bewildered. "You… you come here seven months pregnant and ask for my…" he paused trying to gather what to say. "I think it's a bit late for that." Scabior rubbed his temples before his face darkened a bit. "How dare you," he said simply.

Adhara's eyes narrowed. "How dare I?"

"You come here," Scabior paused. "Asking this of me."

She sighed, "Answer the question, Scabior. Will you allow me to have it?"

"Were you going to go to my father for this? Were you going to take it from him?"'

"No! I wanted to make him understand why I needed it. I thought he'd be more reasonable about me asking you after I explained it to him. Apparently, I was right," Adhara glared.

"Is it for that silly potion you're creating that I keep hearing about?" Scabior asked angrily. He stood up and walked briskly next to her.

Adhara felt the snake rear up which kept Scabior at bay. There was no way he wanted Tanith's venom running through his veins.

"Yes!" Adhara shouted back at him. "Will you do it or won't you?"

"No!" Scabior countered. "What you're asking is dangerous? Trying to hatch a dragon's egg with werewolf _fluids_!" Scabior said frantically. He threw his hands up in the air. "You know, I thought I saw it all in my life…"

"_I told you he wouldn't agree_," Tanith said knowingly.

"_Shut up, Tanith. This isn't the time_," Adhara gritted her teeth, her tongue tapping against her front teeth.

"You've bloody changed, Addie! Talking to snakes. Brewing potions every moment of every day. Shutting yourself up in Dolohov's dungeons. And yet after all this; of having Hermione – sweet lovely Hermione – suffer at Malfoy Manor without her sister." He paused after watching her facial expression drop. "Yes Hermione; you remember her, you're baby sister. You've left her there to suffer while you gallivant off with your potions. Yet you refuse to let anybody know what you're brewing," Scabior growled. He had backed Adhara up against the wall near the front door of the cabin. Tanith looked bewildered between her Mistress and the werewolf pushing up against the witch.

"You're bitter that this child isn't yours," Adhara said darkly. But before Scabior retaliated with a response, she continued. "You had your chance, many moons ago. I begged you to be with me. I begged you to bite me. Yet you refused; saying that a woman of high-esteem should not be with such a lowly werewolf. I only wish your father could hear such disgraceful words uttered by his first born about his own species." Tears pricked at her eyes but she blinked them back. "But when you were arrested, Arcturus and I stood by you, even tried to get the Wizengamot to repeal your sentence. I waited. But I did my duty to my family. I took care of my sister while my parents were in Azkaban and then took care of them when they were released. Then I did what every Pureblood daughter is told to do: marry a Pureblood wizard and spawn an heir." She paused, looking down again. "I did all of that, Scabior. I played pawn. The game of Wizard's Chess is deadly at this point in the war, Scabior. At this point, I'm playing queen."

Adhara sighed after a long stare down between the two. "If you give me the ingredients, you'll be able to use the potion… or better yet, what will come from it."

Scabior inhaled sharply and pressed his forehead against hers. She let him, calmed by the fact that he had stopped arguing. "I don't understand." He moved away, his gaze flickering to the snake and back at Adhara. "I'll give you what you need," he said after a long pause. "But I want you to know if Hermione or you need me, just floo me. The cabins are connected to the system."

Adhara stifled a giggle. She opened her handbag and dug inside of it to retrieve the two vials. Handing it over to him, she said, "Fill them however you can."

Scabior nodded and walked away. She assumed to the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, after an awkward good-bye and vials of werewolf fluids, Adhara left the werewolf village.

"_Well that went well_," Tanith hissed sarcastically.

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch<br>****Monday 22 February 1999**

Hermione stayed close to her parents, firmly wedged in between their bodies. They shuffled towards their seats in the seat towers of the opulent Quidditch pitch. Hermione looked at her mother then up at her father. She felt as if she were a child again. But instead of being squished in between Lucius and Narcissa, she was mashed in between Rodolphus and Bellatrix – something that was eerie.

The bright yellow sun was at the highest point in the sky. It was cold and icicles had formed on the cathedral ceiling of the towers. After the Battle of Hogwarts, the Quidditch pitch had burned to the ground. It was under Lord Voldemort's orders that it be resembled and turned into an execution ring.

Hermione pressed against her father's cloak to stay warmer. She peered around him too see who else was behind them. Uncle Rabastan swaggered behind his brother, followed by Narcissa, Draco, Harry and Lucius. Hermione raised an eyebrow. Harry had grown increasingly closer to the Malfoy family – something that both shocked Lucius and Hermione.

Bellatrix sat down, pulling Hermione with her. Everybody else followed suit. Hermione noticed four extra seats that were vacated, next to her mother.

"Mother," Hermione called quietly.

Bellatrix's wild gaze focused on Hermione. "Yes, my sweet pumpkin juice."

"Who is sitting there?" Hermione pointed to the empty seats.

Bellatrix looked over at the seats then back at her youngest daughter. "Your sister and her family will be joining us. I believe your brother will be too."

"I thought he was carrying out the execution?" Rabastan asked quite pompously.

"He was," Hermione's father answered. "Well, he was until the Dark Lord told him no."

"And why is that?" Uncle Lucius questioned.

"It seems that Arcturus was a bit too rough with the prisoner," Rodolphus explained.

Rabastan and Bellatrix laughed. The older witch's shriek of laughter scared Hermione momentarily. Hermione looked down the row to where her eyes locked with Draco's. Hermione fumed. She was still angry with Draco and Harry for not telling her sooner about Ronald. After seeing Draco's pleading look, Hermione turned to bury herself into her mother's side.

The sound of an apparition crack startled her but Hermione felt her mother's cool slender hand brush through her unruly, brown curls.

"Hello, family!" Arcturus called as he rounded the corner into the stands.

Hermione looked up at her brother with a venomous glare. There was no way she was going to be nice to him after he tortured her best friend. Looking at him made her sick with anger.

Bellatrix untangled herself from her youngest daughter to embrace her son as the man pressed a kiss against Bellatrix's forehead.

"Mother," he said before turning to the rest of his family to nod. His eyes locked with Hermione's. "Hermione, how are you fairing?"

"How do you think I'm fairing, Arcturus?" Hermione said angrily before turning towards their father and curling up to his side.

"Hermione don't be so childish," Arcturus said as he sat down in the seat next to Bellatrix. "This is his own fault. He could have been on our side. Harry as even seen reason; that our side is the greater good." He nodded towards the boy next to Uncle Lucius.

Hermione rolled her eyes dramatically, before speaking fiercely. "Harry was a prisoner before he saw _reason_." Hermione mocked her brother's word usage.

"Now, now the both of you should stop your quarreling," Rodolphus patted his daughter's head in silence. "Hush, child."

Hermione clenched her fists at her father's blatant disregard for her feelings. Leave it to the Lestrange family to deem this execution to be for the greater good. "I want to go home."

"You can't go home, Aquila. Stop acting so…" Her mother trailed off but Hermione wasn't listening as she saw her sister and in-laws round the corner.

Her eyes locked with Adhara's. "Thank, Circe," Hermione muttered under her breathe. She stood up suddenly and scooted around her mother and brother. "Adhara!"

Her sister and in-laws stopped walking as the family trained their eyes upon them. "Hermione," Adhara said softly before pulling her little sister into a fierce hug. "How are you?" She whispered in the girl's ear.

"Terrible," Hermione clenched her eyes shut and nuzzled into her sister's neck. She felt a tickle of feeling across her forehead. Opening her eyes, Hermione came face to face with Tanith, her sister's magical horned viper.

"Ignore her," Adhara muttered. "She's just making sure you're okay. She's worried about you." It took a few moments for Hermione to realize that her sister was talking about the snake. "As am I."

She nodded, reaching out to run a finger over the snake's head. "She doesn't bite you, does she?"

"Not unless I command her to do so," Adhara answered before giving her sister a kiss on her cheek.

Antonin, Adhara's husband, tapped his wife on the shoulder to motion them to take their seats. Adhara nodded before pressing Hermione forward.

"May I sit next to you, Addie?"

Adhara nodded. "Mother, Arcturus, could the both of you move down one?"

Bellatrix moved next to her husband without any mean verbal spat; however Arcturus looked at his two sisters with narrowed eyes. Adhara looked back, glaring at the older sibling. Hermione wondered if they were telepaths, considering how deep their gazes were. After a few moments when Antonin and his brother – Pierre – sat down, Arcturus finally moved over. Hermione took his seat as Adhara took the one in between her sister and husband.

Then Adhara gave her a stern look – on that she saw frequently on her face while they studied together. Actually, Adhara seemed like she was studying Hermione's face for anything that shouldn't have been there. A sign that she was in some kind of unrest.

"What?" Hermione asked anxiously.

Adhara let out a long sigh. Yet before she could say anything, a shrouded black cloud surrounded the seats in front of them. The Dark Lord materialized almost instantaneously, Nagini with him. Hermione watched as her family, her sister included, bowed their heads towards the snake-like man. The Death Eaters of their family actually got down on one knee. Bellatrix looked as if she was about to throw herself down at his feet.

Reluctantly, Hermione bowed her head as well.

"My loyal followers, rise." The Dark Lord ordered. As his followers lifted themselves and their heads. Hermione looked at the Dark Lord curiously. It had been a while since she had seen him, yet there was something oddly different about him. As if he was growing tired. But as quickly as that emotion fluttered across Lord Voldemort's face it was replaced by ghoulish grin. "I see all of you are well and will soon be entertained." His gaze shifted over to her sister. Hermione nearly curled up against Adhara, but Adhara stood up.

"And you Adhara, how is your pregnancy?"

"It fairs splendidly," she enthusiastically moved closer to the Dark wizard. Overeagerly, the young witch grabbed the Dark Lord's hand and placed it on her swollen belly. "The child kicks, my Lord."

The Dark Lord raised an eyebrow inquisitively. Whether it was because of how bold Adhara was or whether he'd never felt a child inside a mother's womb, Hermione did not know. But she saw his features brighten, as he felt the life flutter beneath the layers of fabric Adhara wore. The witch's hand slipped from the Dark Lord's before he nodded – grinning like a lunatic throughout the whole thing. He then turned to address the rest of the people sitting in the stands of the Quidditch pitch.

Adhara's husband tugged her to her seat and whispered in her ear. Hermione could not hear what he said, but she almost assumed that he was chastising her for being so brazen with the Dark Lord. Regardless, Antonin's hand curled upon Adhara's lower belly and then spoke no more.

Hermione also curled up next to the sister, willing this all to be over. She didn't want to look down into the pitch where blood laced the green earth until it looked muddy with dirty blood. It was disgusting.

"Loyal followers, servants alike. Today is the day where _our_ kind get the retribution that it deserves. Purebloods across the United Kingdom and Europe, welcome! You have flocked to come to our execution ring. All to see one third of the Golden Trio die for the crimes he has committed against all of us." The Dark Lord paused to allow people around the Quidditch pitch cheer on.

Hermione hid herself against Adhara's robes. Tanith's cool tongue brushed idly across her temple in a comforting gesture.

"But we have gained two followers that have come to watch their longtime friend fall. His betrayal against them is too grave to leave unpunished. We cannot sit idly and watch this filth of blood traitors and mudbloods belittle our world. I give you Harry Potter and Aquila Lestrange. The ones who have seen reason and have chosen the side of good."

Hermione froze, although she had no idea what to do. Her sister and brother prodded her to get up from her seat. Harry had already gotten up and was now standing next to the Dark Lord. The two wizards looked at her expectantly. Slowly, Hermione removed herself from her seat to stand next to the right of the Dark Lord. She shook with anger that she was trying very hard to conceal.

Another wave of cheering flew over the Quiddtich pitch. Hermione's gaze drifted over the many people in the stands. Foreigners who had joined the Dark Lord were cheering and waving black flags with the dark mark imprinted green on them. How had it come to this?

"Do you both wish to see your friend suffer for all he has done to you?" The Dark Lord asked.

Without skipping a beat Harry answered, "Yes."

Hermione looked at her beloved friend with tears in her eyes. How could he just cast Ron away like that? They had been through so much. Yes, Ronald was a royal prick seventy percent of the time and he had a child-like selfish personality. But they'd all had their faults.

The Dark Lord's red eyes blazed when she didn't answer. _Just say yes, Hermione._

The witch's eyes widened – not sure if that was Harry speaking in her head or the Dark Lord. Regardless she nodded, closing her eyes as she tried to squish the salty tears back inside of her.

When she reopened her eyes, the Dark Lord had raised his hand motioning a pair of doors open down inside the pitch. An invisible force had somehow pulled Ronald Weasley out of what Hermione assumed to be the locker rooms. After a few steps Ron stumbled and fell. The force ended up dragging him into the centre of the field towards the cement pedestal. Witches and wizards all around jeered and laughed; throwing hexes down at the poor young man. Thankfully, none of her family did that; but it was probably because they thought they were better than that, so they would refrain from such barbaric activities.

Hermione's eyes overflowed as she saw her best friend. His red hair was cut in various different angles. Parts of the bone from his skull showed where his skin had been ripped off. Dark blood stained his forehead and left cheek. He was wearing no shirt, but his dark corduroy pants were ripped and burnt in a few areas. His lips were swollen, cracked, and purple; and his nose was broken off to the side. One eye was closed shut; it was obvious that the eye socket had collapsed.

Hermione turned to look at her sister as the tears flowed freely from her eyes. Adhara was currently being held back by her husband and she looked like she was ready to launch herself at their brother, who in fact looked very pleased with himself. The only others who were affected by this scene was Aunt Narcissa and Draco. The woman was sobbing into her son's chest as he tried to soothe her by smoothing back her hair.

The young witch turned back towards the scene in front of her. When Ron reached the pedestal, Fenrir Greyback had appeared with a large axe in his right hand.

"Ron!" Hermione screamed over the laughing and ruckus of the Quidditch pitch. "Ron!"

The redhead whipped his sore neck around looking for the woman calling his name. When their eyes locked, Hermione gave him a watery smile. He returned it, nearly reaching out for her. His blue eyes gave one last shimmer as Fenrir pushed him face first into the cement and raised the axe.

"Hermione!" Ron shouted one last time. Yet the shout ceased as the werewolf brought down the axe smoothly into the ginger boy's neck. His head rolled down the cement and nested in the blood-soaked ground.

Hermione screamed as she watched the executioner kill her friend. Her hands gripped the edge of wooden stand in front of her. Her knuckles white and nearly fused with the icy wood. Hermione heard laughing behind her; her mother's cackling very easy to find. Yet her father's deep laughter crept over her.

Large hands wrapped themselves around her. She looked up into the startled blue eyes of Pierre. Losing all ability to function, Hermione buried herself into his chest, sobbing loudly as she shook. She was vaguely aware of her sister's wide eyes looking in shock at the situation. Her hand gripping her husband's tightly – his face, a mask of stoicism. But when she was being led away from the scene by Pierre, she looked over to Harry. He hadn't even shed a tear.

* * *

><p><strong>The Underground City<br>****Sunday 28 February 1999**

Arcturus was in his glee. Everything was working to his advantage. Everything that he'd planned out in his head for the past couple of months was staying positive. Scabior was on his side, with that came the werewolves and the Snatchers. He had successfully captured the blood traitor and humiliated him. However, his sisters were quite mad at him. But they would come around. Once they saw that they would be the most worshipped witches in all of Europe, they'd see that he deserved to be …dare he say, king.

Flashes of light blinded him left and right as swirls of dark clouds knocked down and pillaged the people of the underground village. _Filthy blood traitors._

This is what they got for picking the wrong side. They should have joined the Dark, instead of trying to protect those who should have been exterminated. Oh, well, Arcturus just needed his group to take out these rats and they would be one step closer to disposing the muggles.

Arcturus watched as some witches and wizards ran off into the Irish countryside, desperate to get away from the Dark wizards and creatures that were taking over their safe house. Arcturus momentarily saw his Aunt Andromeda and her family, along with his cousin's infant son. He gritted his teeth, wondering whether or not he should pursue them or let them run free. His sentimental side was getting the best of him. He'd have to fix that.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>This is quite possibly the longest chapter I will write for this story. However, I felt this chapter was increasing difficult to write. Not only with the intimate scene between Scabior and Adhara; but with Hermione's feelings over Ron's execution. As much I dislike Ron as a character I've actually grown to like him in the canon. It made me feel terrible to kill him off in this story.

Please review. I would love feedback.

-Rosie


	12. The Lestrange Sisters

The Revenge of the Lestrange Sisters

**The Underground City  
><strong>**Tuesday 2 March 1999**

The battle of the Underground City had been long. It was the third day and Draco couldn't believe his eyes. Standing beside his father across the fields, Draco tried to blink back the tears that were threatening to spill across his cheeks. Malfoy men did not cry and he would definitely not be doing it in front of Lucius Malfoy.

However his cheeks did burn and there was a dull, throbbing in his throat that he was having a tough time swallowing. Trying to avert his gaze from the burning shack, Draco swallowed thickly. The battle had probably been the bloodiest he'd ever seen. It had officially stopped two hours ago in the early morning. The sun was cresting the horizon.

Many people on the Light side had been brutally beaten. However they did land a few good blows upon the other side; his cousin's husband was an example. Yet currently many of the Death Eaters were raping some of the young witches that were being dragged across the ground. Draco turned away.

"Are you ready to leave?" Draco asked his father calmly.

Lucius turned towards Draco, his face looking sickly. "They're monsters."

This admittance caught Draco off guard. "Father?" He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"But we're just as bad," he continued not giving his son an answer.

"Father, we should leave," Draco said softly tugging on his father's sleeve.

Lucius gave his son a tight nod. They turned around to disapparate but both were startled back. Arcturus stood behind them. Blood had been splattered across his face, his lip was deeply bruised and his curly hair stood on end. His Death Eater uniform had been ripped in a few places. But other than that, Arcturus did not look that wounded.

"Uncle Lucius, may I speak with Draco before you both leave?" Arcturus' voice was raspy and as Draco peered at his older cousin, he could see that the skin on the other man's neck was singed and red; some of the skin was falling off in ashen flakes.

Draco looked at Lucius. "Go home to Mother. I'll be there soon." Lucius made a move to refuse but Draco gave him a firm nod.

With that, Lucius turned on the spot leaving his only son and only nephew in the grassy knoll. Arcturus' eyes focused in on his cousin. Draco took a step back.

"I've done all this for us," Arcturus stated, gesturing towards the burning shack and the women and children screaming.

"For _us_?" Draco questioned. "You think you've done this for _us_?" His voice raised an octave.

"For our kind," Arcturus clarified.

"I know what you mean, Arcturus. You're deranged. You think this is a good thing? Murdering countless of people; destroying our family with your indiscretions."

"My indiscretions?" Arcturus sputtered. "You have some nerve. I see how you look at Hermione. You practically fawn over her. You act like a wounded puppy when she is angered with you."

"Well your obsession with Adhara knows no bounds." Draco spat back. "However, I'm starting to doubt your love for her – allowing her to marry Dolohov." Draco's lips turned up into a smirk. This felt good; for once he had the power in a situation. He hadn't felt this good since he was a first year causing chaos.

Arcturus clenched his fists at his side, obviously trying to get his violent emotions under control. "Draco, let me explain one thing to you. I haven't come here to argue about my infatuations or yours. But what if I said that you could have Hermione. That my mother wouldn't marry her off to Theodore."

Draco's jaw clenched. "Go on."

"I'm taking over, Draco. And when I do, you should know what side to be on." Arcturus flashed a grin before walking down the hill towards the violence and smoke. Draco would have to let Harry know about this.

* * *

><p><strong>Dolohov Château<br>****Tuesday 2 March 1999**

It was late in the afternoon when Adhara nearly dropped her egg. Pierre slammed open the door to the dungeons before wailing.

"Adhara!" Pierre ran his hands through his hair. His clothes looked rumpled as he rushed over to her. "Antonin's back from that raid! He's really hurt."

Adhara froze for a minute before going into action. Placing the egg back in its plush pillow, Adhara took Tanith and placed her on the egg as well.

"_Stay_." She hissed at the snake. Then rushing over to a cabinet, Adhara grabbed a beaded medical bag and rushed after Pierre who was already at the top of the stairs. "Where is he?"

"In your chambers," Pierre answered.

Despite her swollen pregnant belly, Adhara sped-walked alongside Pierre to the room she shared with her husband. Pierre pushed open the bedroom door and let Adhara sweep into the room.

Adhara gasped before heading over to her husband's bedside. The skin on his forehead had been split open, which led the blood to flow freely into his eyes. The liquid was crusted now. His nose had been broken savagely. Besides that burn marks, scrapes, and bruises marred his fair skin. His dark curls were plastered against his skull and face as a fever had made him sweat.

And that was just the parts of his body she could see.

"Pierre, get the basin from the bathroom and fill it with water." Adhara ordered. As Pierre dashed off to the connecting bathroom, she called, "Get a sponge as well."

Adhara sat down on the bed beside her husband.

"He took a few hard hits," a voice said from the corner of the room.

Adhara looked over towards a man sitting in the wooden armchair. Thorfinn Rowle sat with his hands in his lap as he spoke. His face was bloodied up as well, but he didn't look nearly as beat up as Antonin did.

"Did you bring him here?" Adhara responded as she looked in her beaded medical bag for Blood Replenishing Potion. She plucked the stopper from the slender glass bottle and tipped the liquid into Antonin's mouth. She hoped that despite his unconscious body, he would eventually swallow the solution. The slow movement of his Adam's apple made her feel slightly better.

"Yes, I would have brought him sooner but your brother ordered me not to," the brutish blond man said. His heavy brow scrunched up in thought. "Before you ask, I have no idea why he gave that order."

"Perhaps he didn't think it was this bad," Pierre added as he brought in a steaming basin full of water. A yellow bathing sponge floated atop it. He placed it on the bedside table before picking up the sponge, wringing it out and handing it to the witch.

"Well just look at all this blood, don't you think that it would be severe?" Adhara asked more to herself than the other two men. As she wiped the dry blood from her husband's pale face, she could see a blush rise to his cheeks as the blood began to circulate through his system. She carefully cleaned off his crushed nose before placing the sponge in the bowl. Adhara watched with a heavy heart as the water turned a bloody colour.

"You may want to heal his forehead. That was from a nasty blast from the Weasley clan," Thorfinn grumbled from his spot across the room.

Digging through her bag, Adhara fished out a small flask of essence of dittany. She pulled out the stopper and gently applied it to the sponge. After, the witch smoothed it over Antonin's forehead. This caused him to stir. Dittany usually burned slightly when poured into a serious wound.

"Antonin," Adhara whispered as she smoothed back her husband's hair from his forehead. The skin knitted itself back together. "Antonin, wake up. You're home now."

The Dark wizard's eyes fluttered open before finally resting on his wife.

Adhara sighed in relief. "You frightened me, Antonin Markus Dolohov. Don't ever do that again." She passed Pierre the sponge to stick in the basin.

"She's right brother! You really scared me. Thorfinn had to levitate you all the way up the stairs," Pierre added.

With that cue, Thorfinn pushed himself out of the chair to hover beside Adhara and Pierre. He slapped a hand down on Antonin's chest, causing the wounded wizard to wheeze in pain. "Merlin's beard, Thorfinn get your overly large hand away from me." His voice sounded nasally.

Thorfinn chuckled. "At least you're back to your rude, arrogant self."

Adhara rolled her eyes. "Antonin, my Lord, what happened?" She dug in her medical bag again to pull out another flask of Blood Replenishing Potion. She took out the stopper and placed it in his moving hands. "Drink this, my darling. I'll heal your nose after your blood is stable."

Antonin tried sniffing it, but realized the possibility of smelling it was slim. Then he drowned the bottle in one gulp. "That's awful," he gagged.

"But it helps," Adhara muttered. "Why didn't my brother let you leave?"

"How would I know? I was the one passed out." Antonin paused to think. "When did I pass out?"

"Three, four hours ago; I believe," Thorfinn answered.

Adhara got up from her spot, but Antonin grabbed her left wrist. "My Lady?"

The witch looked at her husband inquisitively. "Yes?"

"The child and you; you both are well?" Antonin inquired as Pierre cleaned off some blood from his revealing chest.

Adhara placed a hand upon her stomach before giving a small smile. "Of course we would be. Why wouldn't we?"

Antonin gave a sigh. "I'm just not feeling well right now. I believe…"

Thorfinn took Adhara's place, allowing the witch to sit on his lap. Adhara did not understand why she was so comfortable with Thorfinn Rowle; a contributing factor was probably the fact that he was her husband's closest friend and confidant. "What is it, mate?" Thorfinn asked.

Pierre brushed back Antonin's hair. "Tell us," he said softly.

"Something isn't right in England," Antonin stated.

"I don't understand. The Underground City is in Ireland. That's where the attack took place, correct?"

Antonin nodded. "It's England. Inner turmoil. I've been noticing," Antonin paused to allow Pierre to clean off his throat from the charred flesh. "At the meetings, everyone is tense. Tenser than usual."

"I know what he means. It's hard to explain, Lady Dolohov," Thorfinn nodded.

"I don't under. Do you think people are rebelling?" Pierre asked.

"Don't be stupid," Thorfinn paused.

Adhara didn't understand either. If something was afoot in England it could radiate to the mainland of Europe. If something hit France, her family would be targeted first. She just needed one more month to give birth. Would the Old Gods allow that? Adhara didn't know but something didn't feel right. Her husband was keeping something from her. He must have learned something had occurred within the inner circle, something that both Thorfinn and Pierre overlooked.

Adhara stood up abruptly. "Thorfinn, Pierre, please leave. I would like to discuss something with my husband." The witch's voice was stern and the other men could tell that this was a moment for the Lady and Lord of the House. Shuffling out of the room, Adhara magically locked the door behind them. Her glare fell upon her husband. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Adhara please," Antonin propped himself up on his elbows. "This isn't the time for you to get all intuitive about something that is way beyond your realm of comprehending."

The witch raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Antonin, do I have to remind you whose daughter I am? I'll get what I want out of you no matter which way. Do you _want_ me to reset the cartilage in your nose?"

Antonin glared at his wife. The two caught in a staring contest. He folded. "Listen," he sighed. "What if I said that it would be better for you and the child, if you didn't know about it?"

"And what if I said that you can sleep in the dungeon tonight?" Adhara smirked.

"Alright, alright." Antonin grinned. "You win. I don't know how to tell you this, but I believe that the Dark Lord is becoming paranoid."

"Paranoid?"

"He doesn't trust any of us. The only person he remotely confides in is his snake and Potter. But I'm not quite sure why. Just last year, the two of them were enemies. They couldn't even stomach looking at each other without things getting out of hand. I think Potter is filling the Dark Lord's head with untruths."

Adhara crawled into the other side of the bed to stroke Antonin's chest. "You think Potter is planning something?"

"I'm not sure it's Potter at all."

"Antonin, you're making no sense."

"I know because this entire situation didn't make any sense. Your brother led the assault on the Underground City. He ordered the attacks, the Dark Lord just made sure we were there to back Arcturus and the Snatchers up. But the Snatchers seemed like they were playing both sides of the field. For instance, my head injury was from them."

"No it wasn't. Thorfinn said a Weasley did it."

"It wasn't one of them. I know the perpetrator had red hair. But it was definitely a Snatcher, a werewolf."

Adhara's hand froze upon her husband's chest. She was vaguely aware of their child fluttering around within her. But her thoughts were elsewhere. If Antonin was alluding to the fact that Arcturus had led the assault and that he controlled the Snatchers …there was only one Snatcher Adhara knew that could have done this. Only one with red hair: Josef Greyback.

* * *

><p><strong>Malfoy Manor<br>****Wednesday 3 March 1999**

Hermione stormed through the hallways of Malfoy Manor – a dark and murderous look ravaged her face intensely. From a short distance, Harry and Draco moved their long legs to keep up with her fast, short steps.

"Hermione, wait! You're over reacting. You haven't eaten your breakfast," Draco called as Harry looked desperately back and forth between the blond and Hermione's retreating form. "You don't want to do this."

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, do not dare tell me what to do," Hermione whispered as she hurried towards the dining hall on the first floor.

Harry and Draco both tried to grab her before she waltzed angrily in to the hall. Unfortunately they did not grab her in time. Throwing open the huge double doors, Hermione barged in. She could have sworn that she felt her own chaotic magic prickling her skin.

It wasn't a shock that the only people in the hall were her mother, father, and brother. But also her uncle, Rabastan, hovered by a pillar at the far end of the hall. Hermione's whiskey-coloured eyes flicked back and forth from her father to her mother, who was embracing Arcturus in a fierce grip.

Hermione stomped over to her brother, grabbed him by his waistcoat and yanked. Caught off guard, Arcturus fumbled out of their mother's embrace. The youngest Lestrange sister shoved him in the chest hard.

"You… you foul bastard," Hermione hissed. "I can't believe you would do that to unarmed civilians!" She gave another hard nudge but Arcturus didn't budge. Instead he grabbed on to Hermione's wrist and pulled his youngest sister to him.

Bellatrix looked startled at her children, her eyes wide at what she was witnessing. Then confusion settled upon her brow. "Aquila, you should be proud that your brother has proved himself amongst the Dark Lord's ranks."

Rodolphus advanced to stand between his youngest child and his wife. He knew what would happen. Bellatrix and Hermione would definitely end up in a violent tussle. Raising his hands, he voiced his concerns. "Now, my loves, don't do anything too rash. Hermione is just upset. You understand, Bellatrix, that she is very sympathetic towards the mudbloods' cause."

Hermione's angry glare swiveled on her father. "Mudblood! I would rather be a mudblood then be a Lestrange at this point! Who cares about your inane blood purity ways!" She yanked herself out of Arcturus' grip in order to back up away from him. "And you Arcturus; I know what you did to Ron. You tortured him during his interrogation. Practically murdered him right there at the Ministry, didn't you?"

Arcturus, who had suddenly started pacing wildly, looked over at Hermione with a wild look on his face. "And I would do it again if I could. He was useless, a proper idiot if you ask me. He wasn't worthy of your love!"

Hermione charged at her brother and punched him swiftly in the jaw. After a moment of shock, Arcturus made a movement to reciprocate but was held back by Rabastan.

"Aquila!" Bellatrix shrieked. "We did _not_ raise you to act like a Muggle heathen."

"You did _not_ raise me, Mother!" She then made a movement to turn around but a sudden hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Hermione," Rodolphus said calmly. "I understand your resentment," He looked back to see Rabastan trying to keep both Bellatrix and Arcturus away from Hermione. Rodolphus turned back around. "We should have taught you the old ways. Don't speak," he said when the witch made a motion to say something. "You're emotionally compromised. In the last year a lot of things have changed. Perhaps you need some time away."

Hermione's face fell. In a moment she felt like a child again – like the time Aunt Narcissa found Hermione's little hands in her makeup without permission. "You're… you're sending me away. But…"

"Hermione, why don't you go visit your sister in France? It will be like a little holiday," Rodolphus started leading her out of the dining hall.

Hermione swallowed thickly. She wouldn't really mind going to see her sister. But that would mean that she was away from her home – the Malfoy Manor. She would be away from headquarters. She wouldn't see the Dark Lord… or Arcturus… or her mother. It would be like a holiday. A slow smile slid on her face as she gave a tight nod. She looked at the boys who were standing in the doorway; shock was evident on their faces. "I suppose that would be a good idea."

* * *

><p><strong>Ministry of Magic<br>****Saturday 20 March 1999**

Arcturus nearly wanted to slam his head against his desk. Hearing his best friend go on and on about the latest snatch was driving him insane. He didn't understand why or what could have caused it, but there was a migraine settling over his temples and radiating from his crown to his jaw. Not even sleep had helped the issue. But listening to his friend's English slang was sending him nutty.

"Scabior! Please, just shut up!" Arcturus growled.

Scabior looked momentarily befuddled. "Have you been listening? We need to figure out a way!"

"What are you talking about?" Arcturus was equally confused. He didn't understand one thing that was coming out of the werewolf's mouth. And now the pain was tickling his shoulders and spine.

"When we take over France, you ape! We need to find a way to get Adhara out without being suspicious. The moment her husband suspects something is the moment he runs off to the Dark Lord," Scabior threw the other wizard an exasperated expression.

Realization dawned on him. Scabior hadn't been talking about snatching at all. He was talking about Adhara. His teeth gritted harshly before he spoke. "You're right, _you dingo_," Arcturus mocked. "I do believe we should get her out."

"When does she give birth?"

"Sometime next month, I believe. I haven't spoken to her in weeks," Arcturus admitted.

"Why's that?" Scabior shot him a curious glance.

"After the whole Hermione fiasco back home, Adhara and Antonin were the ones to retrieve her. She was livid with Father. Antonin blamed her anger on her pregnancy hormones. But I know she's been dying to speak her mind for months. She nearly tackled our mother," Arcturus scoffed.

"Adhara attacked Bellatrix?" Scabior breathed, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Nearly decked her in the face. Can you imagine tiny, pregnant Adhara taking a punch out on my petite mother? It was almost hilarious. She argued with Mum for being tactless with Hermione. Luckily, Aunt Narcissa rushed in to save the day."

"She's been doing that a lot lately," the werewolf commented.

Arcturus nodded. "Regardless, Hermione's staying at the Dolohov Château. If she's still there by July, we'll have to get her out as well. That's way too suspicious."

Scabior looked thoughtful for a moment. "I could lead an assault. Have the Pack pretend to kidnap Hermione and Adhara."

Before Arcturus could respond, there was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," Arcturus said. The door to Arcturus' office creaked open and Draco Malfoy appeared. "Ah, Cousin Draco, what brings you into my domain?" The blond boy took in Arcturus' office. The wizard was sitting behind his desk with his hands clasped together. His grey eyes shifted to Scabior, taking in that the werewolf was lounging on the loveseat that was against the far wall. "You know Scabior Greyback," Arcturus added. "A friend of the family. He's Fenrir's eldest son and the next in line to become Alpha."

Draco gave a tight nod and swallowed thickly.

Arcturus watched as his cousin vaguely acknowledged the werewolf.

"We were just discussing how to get your precious Hermione and the sweet Adhara out of the Dolohov Château," Scabior started.

Draco's eyebrows raised a fraction of millimeter. "Really? Pray tell?"

Arcturus gave a quick smirk before standing up from his desk chair. "Close the door and we'll tell you everything."

* * *

><p><strong>Malfoy Manor<br>****Saturday 20 March 1999**

"They're planning to attack on your birthday," Draco whispered. He leaned his head against Harry's shoulder, his body seeking warmth. He tentatively grasped on to Harry's hand.

"Well, I guess we'll have to speed up the process," Harry whispered back, squeezing the other boy's hand in acknowledgement.

"But how? We need to get Hermione back," Draco whined.

Despite the fact that they were whispering in the dank corners of the cellar, their voices carried. Yet neither Harry nor Draco was worried about being caught down here. They were supposed to be practicing and they were until Harry pulled Draco into a remorseful kiss. Draco was still distraught about Hermione being miles away from them.

Harry moved his free arm to push Draco's hair out of his eyes. "We'll get her. Don't worry. But she's safer with Adhara as of right now. I'll be writing to Adhara soon. She and I are preparing for her birth." Draco gave Harry the strangest look. "What?"

"You're helping her give birth?"

"In spirit, I will be."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>I'm very sorry for the delay. It's the week before finals and I have so much to do. I'll be also uploading two other chapters after this.

Please review. I would love feedback.

-Rosie


	13. The Master

The Master of Death

**Lestrange Château  
><strong>**Wednesday 31 March 1999**

Harry Potter smoothed out the silken bed sheets in the master bedroom. His heart thundered in his chest. It was the first time he was in Rodolphus Lestrange's ancestral home. Of all his years at Hogwarts, he did not think it was possible for him to be here at this point in his life. Never in his life did he think that he would be a _follower_ of the Dark Lord. He should have been working on his Auror training, dating Ginny Weasley, and gathering the courage to choose an engagement ring for her – with the help of Ron and Hermione.

A tightness radiated in his throat. Ron had died. He would be recognized as a war hero, a prisoner of war, and a loyal friend. His death had hit Harry excruciatingly hard. He had masked the pain for he had to be strong for Hermione. The girl was definitely horrified by the things that were going on around her.

Harry ran a hand across his face so he might be able to compose himself. The door to the bedroom swung open. Slowly, Harry turned to face the woman.

"_It will be here?_" Harry asked her in Parseltongue. It was very …nice that he could speak to somebody in this language other than Lord Voldemort.

Adhara nodded nonchalantly. She pursed her lips. "_Help me with this." _She gestured to the litter of potion utensils and ingredients that were in her arms.

Harry rushed over and took them; moving the things to the bed. "_When are you moving the brew?_" He asked, referencing to the large cauldron in her husband's basement.

Looking thoughtfully at the boy, she pressed her right hand against her swollen belly. "_After I give birth to her_."

"_Are you sure it's a girl?_"

"_Is that a problem_?" Adhara posed the question, a smirk across her face.

"_Are you sure it's a girl?_ _The Dark Lord will not like that._"

"And he will not be around for long, will he?" Adhara switched to their native tongue, taking two sweeping steps towards the green-eyed wizard.

He shrugged. "_I suppose he won't._" Harry paused to look at the pregnant witch. "_He will die, Adhara. Do not worry. Your family will be unharmed._"

She shuddered before turning away to walk to the window. Adhara looked down at her ancestral home. "_His quest for…_" She stopped thinking of the appropriate word. "_...immortality had led everything to this. His ultimate demise._"

Harry wasn't sure how to console the woman. She had been through so much. The division within her family started with her brother's birth – when they were all bred like a high-class show dog. Arcturus and Draco bred for service. Adhara and Hermione bred to give birth to more pureblood children. The only one who didn't follow in the footsteps of the Black family's shadows was Nymphadora.

"_Kill him, Harry. Kill him and I promise no one will ever go against you. You will be the Master of Death." _Adhara turned to him.

"I already am."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>Please review. I would love feedback.

-Rosie


	14. The King

The King of Good

**Riddle Manor  
><strong>**Thursday 1 April 1999**

Neville Longbottom and his army crested a hill and looked down into the valley. There nestled within stood the vertical manor once owned by the Riddle family. Rage glistened in his eyes. It wasn't the Death Eaters' headquarters but it was a sanctuary for the Dark Lord and his snake.

Neville looked back at his wizards and witches. "Luna, Ginny, make sure the charms are on." He raised his voice. "We will camp here. We need to make sure he's in there. We need to know everything about our enemy."

People nodded and began to set up tents. Seamus Finnigan walked up to Neville.

"You know what you're doing, right?" Seamus raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

"Having doubts?" Neville turned to stare back down at the house.

"No, none at all. I'm just inquiring. Many people are just interested on what we will gain back from turning this into a Light Post."

"We'll get back our humanity," Neville said passionately.

"Mr. Longbottom," a woman called. "Mr. Longbottom."

Neville and Seamus turned to see Andromeda Tonks running towards them, her husband followed briskly behind her. His face scarred – attacked by Fenrir and his wolves – after going into hiding and on the run.

"'Dromeda, hold your hippogriffs," the man said, out of breath.

The Gryffindors walked closer to the adults running their way.

"What is it Mrs. Tonks?"

Once she reached him, she fell to her knees, clasping her arms around his upper thighs. "Please! Spare them! Spare my family. They know not what they have done by following the Dark Lord."

Neville was momentarily taken aback as the woman prayed to him as if he was a deity.

"Please!" She chanted.

Others were starting to stare at her outburst. Ted sat next to her trying to detangle her from the boy. Yet Neville squatted to her level. "Who? Who do you wish for _us_ to spare?"

"My little sister and her son, along with my two nieces, the baby and Harry Potter. I'll take care of them. They won't be a burden to any person. I'll… I'll…." She gasped, tears streaming down her face.

"Mrs. Tonks," Neville grasped the woman's face. "Please, listen. I'll get your family out. They'll be untouched but you need to search them out. I can't do that alone."

Andromeda nodded and was soon led away by her husband and son-in-law, who appeared moments after her outburst.

Seamus looked at Neville once he had risen. "You're dealing with people's families, Neville."

Neville nodded. "We'll spare those Death Eaters. But the others, like Bellatrix, they must go."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>I've uploaded three chapters in one sitting. However, expect the last chapter this coming Friday. It will be the last chapter and then I will release the deleted scenes followed by Book 2 of this story.

Please review. I would love feedback.

-Rosie


End file.
